


Affairs of the Order

by RoryMercury



Series: Affairs of the Order [1]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Aaronev Wilhelm as a Caring Father, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anevka is not a Clank, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Murder, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Complex relationships, Drama, Drugged Drink, Drugs, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Dysfunctional Family, Even Aaronev, Everybody Lives, Except the Assassins of Course, F/M, Fanart, Fatherly Aaronev, Getting to Know Each Other, Included music links to listen to, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Romance, Slow Burn, Still Aaronev, Tarvek is really trying, The Sturmvoraus Family, Trying To Be Good, Yes it actually is, because Aaronev, doodles by the writer, lowered inhibition, no Lucrezia, responsible rule
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 54,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryMercury/pseuds/RoryMercury
Summary: What if Aaronev was never part of Lucrezia’s plans? What if Aaronev sought to use Agatha for the purpose of the Order of Jove instead? What if Anevka is never put into the Summoning Engine, and Tarvek… is still Tarvek?
Relationships: Agatha Heterodyne & Gilgamesh "Gil" Wulfenbach, Agatha Heterodyne/Lars, Agatha Heterodyne/Tarvek Sturmvoraus
Series: Affairs of the Order [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083770
Comments: 98
Kudos: 33





	1. Dinner, Drugged Drinks and Dash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything up to the Sturmhalten arc is the same as in canon story. However, it is a very, very different Sturmvoraus family that Agatha meets... and in some ways, still very much the same.

Tarvek stared in horror as the young woman they had invited started talking with no restraint whatsoever. Very quickly they found out that the girl had been a prisoner on _Castle Wulfenbach_ , and had been told by the constructs Punch and Judy she was the last living Heterodyne. 

When she limply tipped forward, Tarvek caught her before her face hit the torte. Agatha Heterodyne sagged into his arms and smiled dreamily up at him. “You’re very cute,” she whispered, and then leaned closer to whisper into his ear, “I really like your voice too.” Tarvek blushed.

Prince Aaronev eyed the wine bottle. “I think I used a little too much.”

“Why did you even think it _necessary_ to drug her, Father?” Tarvek demanded angrily.

“I was curious; she reminded me of...” Aaronev shook his head and grinned. “That’s not important right now, Tarvek! A _genuine_ Heterodyne Girl! With her, the Lightning Throne is yours!” He danced a little gleeful caper. “We’ll get ahead of the other heir candidates by betrothing you to her!”

Tarvek felt his jaw dropping before he found his tongue again. “What do you mean, _betroth_ ? Agatha- she barely _knows_ me! And what if she doesn’t want to?” He made a funny sound as the girl he was supporting in his arms suddenly nuzzled into his neck. 

“You smell very nice.”

Aaronev peered at his son over his spectacles, eyebrow raised. “From the looks of things we won’t have much of a problem on _that_ score. And besides, from the reports we got in from your ...visit… to Munich, you proved yourself to have learned Mother’s lessons very well. She named you her prize _male_ student. You’ll have no trouble coaxing her to fall for you.” A genuinely paternal smile appeared on Aaronev’s face. “Perhaps you’ll finally put those _skills_ you learned into practice, hm? Do enjoy yourself.”

Tarvek bit his tongue, even as his cheeks threatened to rival the colour of his hair. 

Anevka had been quietly watching the byplay unfolding in front of her, her fan hiding her wicked smile at Tarvek’s embarrassment. Yet, at the same time, the Sturmvoraus Princess’ mind was racing. “The Circus will not be too surprised if she _doesn’t_ come home tonight… or a _few_ nights…” her murmur, filled with sly innuendo, made her brother glare at her, even as his arms tightened protectively around the curvaceous blonde. “But more than that we’ll have to find some proper excuse.”

“It _is_ Master Payne’s Circus,” Tarvek seized on that. “They’re well known for having a good reputation not just for their act, but also that their actresses aren’t …” he faltered again as Agatha snuggled into him. In fact, she was in Tarvek’s lap, and judging from his expression, pressed up against him in interesting ways.

“True, true.” Aaronev rubbed his chin. “We wouldn’t want anyone else to get suspicious quickly. I’ll have to come up with a good story.” He looked at Tarvek at another funny noise from the young man. “Tarvek,” he chided. “Not at the dinner table. Take her to your room. We’ll see you in the morning. Enjoy yourself.” The Prince shooed him off.

Tarvek didn’t bother with denials any more. “Yes, Father.” He gathered Agatha in his arms and fled. A servant rushed ahead of him, and was joined by a couple of maids, one of them carrying a bundle in her arms. 

To Tarvek’s surprise the footman and the maids took Agatha from him when they reached his apartments, and shut him out of the bedroom. They trooped back out without her, and Tarvek recognised the dress that Agatha had been wearing draped over one maid’s arm.

The footman bowed. “She has been made ready for you, Highness.”

A flash of anger focused him. _Anevka’s doing, probably._ With regal chill, Tarvek ordered them to bring a new outfit and to leave it in his study, and to repair the dress - awful as it was, it was Agatha’s - and dismissed them. He didn’t move even after the door had shut, listening. A few echoing noises reached Tarvek’s ears. _Guards, further down the hallway… to make sure we’re not disturbed._

Tarvek took a deep breath and went into his bedroom. He froze at the doorway.

Soft candlelight illuminated his room, casting gentle shadows about the large, canopied bed. Agatha stood before it, her hair combed out and falling to her waist, a lovely glittering cascade of autumn sunshine. The pale, diaphanous gown she wore caressed her womanly curves, which were made even more alluring in the candlelight. Agatha’s expression was shy and her eyes were wide and soft as they rested on his face. “Tarvek?”

Tarvek swallowed. The scene before him was perfect and romantic, and he would have been lying if he said he didn’t find the beauty in front of him a temptation. But that slightly nervous wobble in the way she said his name, without honourifics or title, roused his instincts. 

Tarvek kicked the door shut behind him, strode past her, snatched up his dressing gown, and wrapped it around Agatha’s shoulders, pulling the lapels over her front, frowning when they fell open again. He gently stuffed her arms into the sleeves and tied the robe shut at her waist. “My apologies, Lady Heterodyne. This is not how I wished to begin our association.”

Agatha tilted her head curiously. “Why are you suddenly so formal, Tarvek? Oh, I mean, your Highness.” She looked around. “This is your bedroom, isn’t it?” Suddenly she blushed. “I… I know why I’m here. The Circus warned me, but… I haven’t ever…” She peeked up at him. “Please be gentle.”

Tarvek shivered at her words. “I…” he swallowed, his voice husky. “I won’t touch you, Lady. Not like this.”

“Agatha,” she said. “Even if that’s what’s supposed to happen? Even if I don’t mind since it’s you?”

Tarvek forced himself to take a step back. “Even if you don’t mind _now,_ you will in the morning. And nothing will happen between you and me unless you want it, I swear.” He blushed and looked at her shyly. “Even if you don’t mind me… not tonight. I will protect you, Lady… Agatha.”

“Okay.” She turned around to look at the room again. “So why did you bring me here to your bedroom?”

“I had only planned to give you somewhere safe to sleep,” Tarvek ran his hand through his hair. “With my… ah… _interest…_ in you, and all the comments from my family, there really wasn’t anywhere else. Sorry.”

Agatha turned back to Tarvek, stunning him with a brilliant smile. “You’re interested in me?”

“Yes.” The truth dropped out of his mouth brainlessly. Tarvek shook himself. “I find you intelligent, personable, quite comely-” he blushed “-and quite delightful to talk to, especially when you so quickly analysed the heating system I built.”

“Well, it was fascinating! I’m a Spark too, so…” she stepped up to him. “I don’t suppose I could have a look at your brine-oil formula?”

 _A Spark? Of course she is! She’d said so earlier! _ Tarvek felt dizzy with delight. “Of course! Let me write it out-” he went to his bedside table and took out a notepad and pencil, kept there for any ideas he got at night. He sat down on the bed and wrote out the formula, barely noticing when Agatha sat next to him, peering over his shoulder.

 _“Oooh, I see what you’ve done,”_ Agatha said. _“But if you increase the oil ratio by just one point five percent, you’ll get an increased heat transmission and duration of an additional thirteen point fifteen percent!”_

Tarvek ran the simulation in his head, then grinned. _“Why, you’re absolutely correct! That will make it ever so much more efficient, especially in the winter!”_ His eyes lit up. _“Indeed, with this increased efficiency I bet we could warm the hallways as well! Perhaps not as warmly as a room, but at least it won’t be freezing-_ mmmmph?! _”_

Agatha turned his face to hers and kissed him, entranced by the sound of Tarvek’s voice in the lightest fugue state. When he pulled enough wits together to realise what was happening, Agatha pulled away with a slight frown. 

“Uhm… Agatha?” _Why the frown?_ Tarvek wondered.

“The kiss is very nice, but then you can’t talk.” She looked at him, her eyes wide and a small pout on her lips. “And your voice really gives me a wonderful tingly feeling that makes me want to kiss you. But if I kiss you, you stop talking. This is a _problem_.” Agatha smacked the bed under her with the palm of her hand.

Tarvek stared at her, then began to chuckle, shy because she’d just stolen his first kiss. “I see. I’m sorry that my voice does that?” _No, not really. I’m not sorry._

“No!” Another smack of the bed. “I _like_ that your voice gives me wonderful tingly feelings! And besides, it’s silly to apologise for your voice. It’s not something you can _help_ , now is it?” Agatha leaned so that her nose touched his, eyes flashing with challenge.

“No… I suppose it isn’t,” Tarvek replied, his voice husky again, as he found himself responding to her closeness, heart hammering in his ears.

“Oh,” Agatha breathed. She licked her lips. “That… that _really_ makes me want to kiss you.” And she did. This time, Tarvek melted into the kiss. Everything faded into a hot haze of desire until Tarvek found the back of his head thumping against the headboard as Agatha pushed him up against it, her hands fisted in his clothes.

 _What? Oh no-_ Tarvek grabbed her by the upper arms and stopped her. He swallowed hard when he realised Agatha was straddling him, but to his relief they were both still clothed. “I… I said not tonight!”

“Oh.” She sat down on him, her face a study in disappointment, not noticing the strangled noise that came out of his throat. “...You _did_ say that.” She sighed. “...Maybe you don’t want me after all.”

Tarvek nodded, frantically. At the look on her face, he panicked a little. “No, it’s not… I _do_ want you but-” _What the hell am I_ SAYING?! “But… you might have had a bit too much to drink. And… and…” his face felt like it would burst into fire any moment now. “The… first time shouldn’t be clouded by such things. At least _I_ think so.” He dropped his eyes down to where he was still clutching the pencil.

Agatha stared at him, then smiled again. “You’re right.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “You really _are_ sweet. I like that. I like that a lot.”

“That’s… that’s good.” Tarvek sighed and very carefully set her down on the bed. “I like you too… which is why this should be proper.”

“Nothing that happens in the bedroom involving a man and a woman is _proper_ , so Zeetha tells me.”

Tarvek choked at the serious expression on her face. “Who’s Zeetha?”

Agatha proceeded to tell him, in great detail. Complete with swinging imaginary swords as she stood on his bed, demonstrating how her morning training sessions went. “And sometimes she’ll jump out at me from a tree!” She jumped, and landed on her legs, with a loud _fwoomph_ on the middle of Tarvek’s bed. “This is much softer than the ground though.” She patted the bed happily.

“It is,” Tarvek agreed, mostly to keep her talking. It was _much_ safer to keep her talking. The loud martial arts shouts she’d done, mimicking this Zeetha woman, he realised, would convince the guards outside that _something_ enthusiastic was going on in here. He was certain they’d report to his father. _That’s fine, as long as nothing actually happens,_ Tarvek thought.

“Still, I haven’t been falling as much since the Jägers arrived. They seem to keep me from getting hurt now.”

Tarvek sat up straight in alarm. “Jägers,” he echoed. “You have _Jägers_ with you.”

“Oh yes. Wild Jägers.” Agatha proceeded to tell Tarvek about Maxim, Oggie and Dimo, describing them so well Tarvek sketched their portraits and she applauded at his skills. She asked him to draw Zeetha, then Krosp, which he did to entertain her after he got out of her the story of how she met the Emperor of Cats.

“Can you draw Lars?”

“You’ll have to tell me about him.”

As Agatha did though, Tarvek began to regret it. Clearly there was _something_ between the two of them, and when she described that this Lars would kiss her, both on and _off_ the stage. This eventually seemed to occur to Agatha as well, as she faltered and then looked at Tarvek. “Uhm. Sorry.”

Tarvek put on a slightly chiding smile. “If I had known you were someone else’s girlfriend, I would have never come close. There are rules about that sort of thing.”

Agatha, to his surprise, looked unhappy. “I’m… I’m not sure _what_ we are. Zeetha says Lars is ‘just for fun’ but that doesn’t seem right to me. I can’t really talk to him, and that’s… that’s frustrating. I’ve known you for only _hours_ and I’ve talked to you more than I’ve been able to talk to him.”

Tarvek bit back the jealous comment he’d been about to make. _I will not be snippy over someone she met before me,_ he mentally slapped himself.

“In fact… I’ve never really been able to talk to anyone like this except you… and Gilgamesh Wulfenbach.” She looked at Tarvek, eyes watery. “And I really, really, _really_ like talking to you. And you. You’re very nice. Much nicer than Gil.” she huffed. “At least you’re not trying to _make_ me marry you.”

Tarvek broke off the tip of his pencil. “Er… yes. I don’t want that. I’d rather that the woman I marry _wants_ to marry _me_ …” _Oh hell, I_ am _jealous._ The next thought was a pile of swearwords, in German and Romanian.

“Exactly!” She threw her arms around him. “I knew you’d understand, Tarvek!” Agatha snuggled against him, her arms wrapped around his head, happy. “That’s why I think I like you _best_.”

Right at that moment, Tarvek wished he could strangle his father for giving her the inhibition-lowering drugged wine. _Everything_ Agatha was telling him was unfiltered, unthinking, unrestrained truth. Whatever popped into her mind, she said… or _did_ . And right then, he was being smothered by her bosom, and it was becoming a struggle to think at all, with how lovely she smelled, warming his blood and how _soft…_ Thinking a string of vicious curses in a dozen languages, Tarvek very gently extricated himself from Agatha’s embrace.

“I can’t draw if I can’t see, Agatha,” Tarvek said, putting a note of complaint into his voice, to show that he _wasn’t_ rejecting her. “You want me to draw, so…” He paused to sharpen the pencil.

“...Mmm, but _not_ Lars anymore.” Agatha looked at him. “Who would you like me to describe?”

Tarvek pretended to think about it. “Gilgamesh Wulfenbach.” It was too good an opportunity to pass up, as nobody knew what he looked like. _And you want to know what your rival looks like, don’t you?_ a small voice sniped from the depths of his mind. It sounded remarkably like Anevka.

Agatha began to describe the son of the Baron, and as he sketched, Tarvek felt a chill of recognition seep through his veins as the face resolved. Taking a leap of intuitive faith, Tarvek finished the portrait.

“That’s him! That’s him _exactly!_ ” Agatha applauded. “You’re really very good at this, Tarvek.”

“Yes…” Tarvek replied carefully, as the face of Gilgamesh Holtzfäller -no, _Wulfenbach_ \- stared back at him from the notepad. “I suppose I am.” Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind, conversations and scenes replayed in lightning speed.

Agatha looked at him closely. “Is something wrong?”

Tarvek focused on her, then frowned. “Yes. You’re still wearing makeup.” He stood. “That’s not good for your skin, so let me clean it off for you.” He vanished into the ensuite.

When Tarvek came back, it was with a tray of facial cleansing fluids, soft cotton pads, and small pots of lotion. Gently he cleaned the makeup off her face. “I think you look better without that,” he said, smiling as the real Agatha emerged from the disguise.

“I’m glad.” Agatha looked sad. “I felt awful seeing myself, even if I know it was to deter you.” Suddenly she brightened. “But it didn’t really work, did it? You became interested in me anyway!” This pleased her immensely.

Tarvek laughed as he dabbed soothing lotion onto her features, and massaged it in with his fingertips. “It was a very good disguise, but I am not the lecherous royal they thought I am.”

“But they’re going to think that for sure _now_.”

After several moments, Tarvek shrugged. “A lot of people think lots of bad things about me. It’s nothing new.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Agatha frowned at him, hurt on his behalf. “You’re very, very nice.”

Tarvek sighed as he screwed the lid back on the lotion pot. “I hope you think so in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Even with a lighter, nicer, more caring Aaronev, he's pretty awful. He really does love his children though and wants Tarvek to be happy - even if what he _thinks_ might make Tarvek happy and what would _really_ make Tarvek happy are two different things. Lucrezia wasn't able to get him to swear the Order to her service, unlike in canon, so technically the story itself (along with a number of events) changed earlier. 
> 
> Unfortunately, he has a rather terrible way of getting things done.
> 
> And no, I haven’t any idea if the increases in ratio result in that improved heat transmission.


	2. Bed, Bath and Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarvek explains some things, and of course, starts to scheme. He is still doing his best of course, so he's scheming for Agatha's sake.

Agatha woke with a start, blinking up at an unfamiliar canopy. _Where-?_ Then she remembered she wasn’t alone. She looked up to see Prince Tarvek leaning against the elegantly carved headboard, asleep, sitting on top of the blankets tucked around her.

Agatha flushed, as memory flickered back a thousand images, speech and… _sensations…_ to her. Especially the way his mouth had tasted, and how his arms had felt around her.

Her entire body flushed when she remembered what he’d stopped her from doing. Her hand tightened around his, and she realised that she hadn’t let go of his hand… which was why he was sitting, and why Tarvek had fallen asleep there. He’d shed his jacket at some point during their conversations, removed his boots and untied his hair. Asleep, he didn’t look much older than Agatha did.

And as he promised, Tarvek hadn’t … She blushed again. _I didn’t think that I would get that drunk._ As she looked at him, respect grew once more, as well as admiration. _How many men would have refused the advances of a drunken, interested girl?_ Not many, Agatha admitted. The Circus women had insisted that she build up a tolerance to alcohol for that reason.

As Agatha lay there, watching the young Prince, she found herself quietly hoping there would be more time, so she could get to know him better.

Tarvek slowly woke. He had slept briefly, watching Agatha most of the night, deep in thought. She had reached for his hand in her sleep, and Tarvek couldn’t make himself pull away, not even for his own comfort. He had noticed the wirework ring on her finger, but also known it was fake from Agatha’s chatter. Since Tarvek understood the sentiment behind it however, he resolved to try keep a more decorous distance - until he recalled that everyone was going to think Agatha was his lover, and future bride. 

It didn’t take a genius to parse what his father’s plans would be, and it was only by keeping her close Tarvek was going to be able to protect her. Fortunately it didn’t seem like Aaronev planned anything that involved harming Agatha, as long as it seemed his plans were going his way. Tarvek would have to be very careful that his sire wasn’t going to slip any more drugs into Agatha’s food.

As for Gilgamesh, he was a problem for the future. For now, he thought Agatha dead. That would keep her safe from the Baron, but _only_ until she was recognised as the Heterodyne. Tarvek had to ensure she had the ability to stand on her own, and if not, that he could wrangle the backing of the Order to his banner. _At least… this_ will _beat the stupid Fake Heterodyne plan._

Even as his own plans formed, Tarvek realised on re-examining them that none of them involved pushing Agatha to be his bride. As he reached this conclusion, he came to another: he did not want her to become his on anyone’s say-so except hers… and that he would do everything in his power to make sure she was free to make those choices.

But for now… the game was afoot.

“Good morning, Tarvek.”

Tarvek blinked, fully awake now, and looked down at Agatha. She smiled up at him. _Please, God, let her still smile at me once I tell her the truth._

“Good morning, Agatha.” He smiled. “How do you feel?”

“Uhm…” She looked shy. “Embarrassed that I made such a scandal of myself. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

Tarvek looked uncomfortable. “I never would have taken advantage of you that way. Or anyone else.”

“I’m glad that I was so lucky to have fallen in with a Prince amongst men then.”

Tarvek flinched, to her puzzlement. He drew away from her. “My father drugged you last night. The wine. And no, I did not know of his plans. I’m sorry.”

Agatha turned pale and clutched the blankets to her chest. “That’s why I…” she stared at him, then flushed.

Tarvek nodded. “That’s why you revealed your true identity and everything else. This…” he gestured at the bed. “You were safest here. And I never would have touched you, I swear.” To emphasise this statement, Tarvek stood up, took a step back and folded his arms behind his back.

Agatha examined his behaviour from last night and winced. “I believe you. You didn’t, even when I threw myself at you. More than once.” She peeked at him from between her fingers. “You have the restraint of a saint.”

“I am grateful you think so, my Lady.” Gracefully he knelt, his hand over his heart. “Allow me to be the first to acknowledge you as the future Lady Heterodyne. And, I do vow to you that everything I do will be for your sake, that when we are alone I will never lie to you and I will always tell you the truth, and I will do everything in my power to protect you, from now until the end of my days.”

Agatha stared at him. When she was able to pull her thoughts together, she frowned a little. “That’s… that’s a serious vow, Tarvek. Why?”

“I have fallen in love with you.” He blushed, even as he kept his eyes lowered. “Talking to you… was the most wonderful thing ever. But… that doesn’t mean you are under any obligation to return my feelings. Please take no note of them.”

“But… you’re a Prince, of Sturmhalten no less.” She recalled her history. “I’m nobody.”

Tarvek stood up and regarded her seriously as she gaped. “You are _not_ ‘nobody,’ Agatha. You are the Heterodyne. Your bloodline is far older than mine, and technically you are a sovereign princess in your own right, a _Großfürstin.”_ Seeing her confusion, he explained. 

“The Valley of the Heterodynes is a domain considered by many to be the equivalent of a Grand Principality, and thus, your rank is no less than that of a Grand Princess. But in terms of power, you are a ruler _equal_ to the Storm King in power regardless of rank, as the Heterodynes are historically a power that required a coalition of rulers that _included_ the Storm King at its head to try _defeat._ Europa feared the power that is the Heterodyne, the oldest Spark family dynasty on the continent. Only Her Undying Majesty Albia’s rule is longer.” Tarvek smiled. “One of your ancestors _did_ take the title, because the accompanying style amused him so: His Serene Highness. But since he did, it is _valid_ , even if most of your ancestors simply styled themselves as Lord Heterodyne. Also, you are able to rule, because the Heterodynes simply didn’t care about that sort of thing. The only reason why there has been no ruling Lady is because by quirk of nature, any Heterodyne daughter tended to be a younger child.”

“Oh.”

“Thus, as a Prince of Sturmhalten, I would actually be of lesser rank than yourself, if you chose to allow me to court you.”

“ _If_ I chose?”

Tarvek’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Unwanted advances tended to be fatal for those who wished to wed your ancestors… though at the same time, there were those who felt that sending an army to try kill a Heterodyne Lord to be the opening salvos of _courtship._ ”

Agatha stared at him. “You’re not kidding in the least, are you?”

“No.” Tarvek grinned. “Though I admit I am teasing you a little.”

Agatha found she liked it when he was teasing her. “So… why the drugged wine?”

The amusement dropped off Tarvek’s face and he sat down on the bed, giving her plenty of space. “I think it was because of your performance on stage last night.” He removed his pince-nez and cleaned it with a square of silk pulled from his waistcoat. “My father was romantically involved with your mother in his younger years, and you resembled her greatly - _on stage._ I think he hoped to find out if you were a relative. I make no excuses for his behaviour, but now that he knows who you really are, I do not think he will allow you to return to your Circus.”

Agatha bristled. “Whyever not? Bad enough that people will think that you’re a rake…!”

Tarvek leaned against the bedpost and looked at her sadly. “Because I am not just a Prince of Sturmhalten, Agatha Heterodyne. I am the Storm King.”

Agatha stared. Her first instinct was to blurt out that what he had just said was absurd, but Tarvek had sworn to be honest with her, and from how he had been answering, he was taking his vow seriously. She turned over the words he had said. _As long as we are alone_ \- which meant there would be times he would have to lie in the presence of others, either to them or lie to her while they were with other people. But with this new information, she regarded him in a new light. She knew enough of the legends to know he needed her to be able to fulfill the Prophecy of Europa. 

“Can you get me out of here?”

“Not yet.” Agatha saw the flash of hurt in Tarvek’s eyes, quickly stifled. “I must make preparations and my movements are limited. It will not be easy and it will take time, perhaps weeks, but it can be done.” He looked away. “Depending on the cover story that gets cooked up, your reputation may not be as sullied as you believe. I will try my best to work on that. But… My family is part of the Order of Jove; indeed, my father is the Head of the Order. They’ve safeguarded the bloodline for ten generations, and my claim to the Lightning Throne comes from my mother. Unfortunately she died when I was very young.” He looked pensive, then shook himself. “I believe my father wishes to try to secure my claim to the throne by betrothal. But I mean to play along only until I can safely see you to Mechanicsburg. I will need your aid in this, however, so that they will think you are compliant.”

Agatha studied him, and the way he seemed to withdraw into himself. Tarvek’s speech had also become somewhat more formal in cadence again, and so she scooted close. “You need me to do what, Tarvek?”

Fiddling with his scrap of silk, he looked uncomfortable. “Pretend to be my lover. It will not be onerous, I promise, and I apologise in advance for any impertinent acts I must take. I shan’t go too far.”

Agatha took his hand, and squeezed his fingers. “I don’t think I’ll have a problem with that. I trust you, because you’ve proven that you are trustworthy to me, without being asked.”

“That… that means more to me than I can hope to explain,” Tarvek told her. “But first… breakfast. I will ring for some, and you may want to take a shower there. I will have clothes brought for you.” He eyed her. “Something in green, and gold, I think would suit you, with sleek, clean lines.”

“That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

Tarvek stood, bowed, and stepped back. Before he left the room though, Agatha watched him muss up his hair, remove his waistcoat, and undo the buttons on his shirt, so he looked like he’d pulled on whatever had been within reach. _And so he looks like he slept in the bed with me._

As Agatha stepped into the well appointed ensuite, she briefly wished he had at least lain next to her, and slept more comfortably.

⚙

As they ate breakfast together, they planned on how their rough script would go. Agatha let him know that she figured she could play off his cues enough. Tarvek nodded thoughtfully as he chewed on a nutty scone.

“Are your friends aware you are a Spark?”

“Yes,” Agatha replied.

“So sending them a story about ‘Madame Olga being in Breakthrough’ is a good way to warn them something is wrong, I’d say, and gives us a day or two.” Tarvek leaned back. “How to tell them to meet you in Mechanicsburg?”

“If something is wrong, Zeetha and the Jägers will be attempting to rescue me,” Agatha told him.

“That might get them killed,” Tarvek replied, frowning. “I will do my best to intercept them, but they won’t trust me.”

“If Zeetha is there… tell her ‘Your _zumil_ asks her _kolee_ to listen to this man and trust him,’ - probably before she tries to stab you.”

“I consider myself warned,” Tarvek said, smiling. 

“I’m being serious, Tarvek. Zeetha’s a warrior princess. She’s dangerous.” Agatha looked at him worriedly, trying to remember what Europa’s nobility were required to learn in terms of fighting. “I’m not sure fencing will be enough… I don’t want you hurt on my behalf.”

“I don’t fence,” Tarvek said, in defiance of the twin rapiers set on their stands behind him. “But I am touched by your care.” He leaned close to Agatha and murmured, “Let me let you on a little secret: I’m very dangerous myself.”

Agatha shivered as his voice washed over her like hot ice. Tarvek reached up and caressed her cheek with his thumb… and Agatha glimpsed the dagger hidden in his sleeve.

“So glad you understand, Agatha.” Tarvek smiled, his eyes half-lidded, and then he kissed her. 

Agatha had never been kissed the way Tarvek kissed her then. His lips moved like hot silk against hers, pulling hot tugs from the bottom of her belly, making her gasp. When her lips parted, his tongue flicked out and tasted her bottom lip, making her tremble. _What in the world-_ “T-Tarvek?”

He laughed, a dark husky chuckle that turned Agatha’s legs into water, and Tarvek drew her into his lap, tipped her face up to his, and kissed her again. She mewed into his mouth as his tongue twined with hers, making her _want_ in a way that made her aware that there was cloth between their bodies. But Tarvek’s shirt was open and so her hands caressed over his skin, but it wasn’t enough, even though he purred at her clumsy touch.

Agatha was vaguely aware of Tarvek lifting her up in his arms, and his long-legged stride and the sound of a door slamming behind them. Then she was lying in his bed again, and Tarvek was pulling away.

Suddenly bereft, Agatha growled and tackled him down as well, pinning him down with her hips upon his.

“Stop,” Tarvek gasped, right before she could kiss him. His hands gripped her upper arms, gently restraining. “Agatha, _stop_ , please.”

“It’s not last night anymore,” Agatha said with a bit of a snarl, then blinked on realising more coherently what Tarvek had just said. “What just happened, Tarvek?”

“There was a Smoke Knight observing us just then,” Tarvek whispered. “Probably sent by my father, to check on us.”

“A what?”

“Trained spies, infiltrators, assassins, bodyguards. I sensed him.” Tarvek swallowed, holding very still beneath her.

“That’s why you kissed me like _that_ ?” Agatha’s eyes were wide. She wanted to smack him - out of frustration, or because it had been a pretense, she wasn’t sure. _Both,_ she concluded after a moment. Despite the passion aroused by the kiss, Tarvek had kept his promise and _only_ kissed and embraced her. _If that’s what he can make me feel with a kiss, I wonder..._

“He left as soon as it seemed that we were going to be rather… preoccupied for a while.” Tarvek said softly. “I may have bought us an hour or two of being left alone.”

Agatha reached up to touch her lips. “Where in the world did you learn to kiss like that?”

Tarvek actually blushed. “I… I’m trained. As a seducer. My family thinks I am useless as a fighter, certainly as an assassin, but…” he carefully pushed himself up on his elbows and looked up at her. “But because of ...everything I turned out to have become, I was taught seduction skills. I’m not supposed to know, but the assessment about me is that I am the most skilled _male_ seducer they’ve trained in the last three generations.”

“So you take women to bed and—”

“I have never needed to use more than words, thus that assessment.” Tarvek looked solemn. “I also have never kissed anyone like that before.”

“Really.”

“You were my _first_ kiss.”

Agatha remembered how she’d suddenly kissed him while he’d been in fugue, and blushed. “And yet you’re unaffected by that kiss just now.”

“I am quite affected.” Tarvek winced. “ _Very_ affected. I’ve never done _any_ of this before.”

Agatha’s blush deepened as she realised what he meant, something that should have been obvious to her given that she was sitting on Tarvek’s hips. But knowing she wasn’t the only one thwarted made her feel much better. She slid off him. “May I ask why you haven’t? I thought most men would have…”

Tarvek sat up, crossing his legs. “I have a list of reasons, but the top of those reasons is that I rather wanted my first times to be with a girl I at least _liked_.” The smile he gave her made Agatha’s heart flip. “So far, so good.”

Agatha gazed at him. Prince Tarvek was a man of many contradictions and secrets, but he had, on the face of it, worked against all his interests. When she had more of a chance, she would examine his words more carefully. She was impressed despite herself at how he’d managed to carry two different conversations with her at the same time, right before that brain-shorting kiss.

“How would you _really_ like to kiss me, Tarvek Sturmvoraus?”

The way he went very still told Agatha she’d said her thoughts out loud, and she blushed. _I don’t even have the excuse of drugged wine for being brainless._

“Would you like me to show you, Agatha Heterodyne?” 

Agatha looked at his face. Shy. Trying to brace himself for a no. She remembered how he’d withdrawn when she said she had wanted to leave. Her head dipped in the tiniest of nods.

Tarvek searched her face for several moments, as if not daring to believe what she had just given him permission to do. He shifted a little closer, and just gazed at her for a long while, as if he’d never seen her before, as if she were an angel that had suddenly appeared, and he wasn’t sure she was real. He blinked slowly, light brown eyes soft behind his glasses. Hesitantly, Tarvek leaned forward, paused as if unsure, then he softly touched his lips to hers.

That light touch made Agatha lightheaded, but at the same time more aware of Tarvek. Time seemed to hold its breath, as he gently, oh so gently deepened the kiss, eyes drifting shut. The tiny movements he made didn’t tug fire from her core, but made her tingle inside and out, made her feel like she was being enveloped in a blanket made of eiderdown, soft and warm and wonderful. For a long, endless moment the only contact they had was the kiss. Then Agatha shifted closer so she could place her hands on his chest, and Tarvek carefully gathered her into his arms, as if he was holding something infinitely precious and fragile. Agatha relaxed against him, feeling as if she had found something she had been searching for in his careful embrace, and hadn’t known she’d been looking for until just then. And she never wanted to leave. 

Tarvek pulled back very slightly, eyelashes lifting on eyes that had become like warm pools of chocolate. Agatha leaned forward, but their lips did not touch.

“Like that.” His whisper was soft, husky with emotion.

“Oh.” Agatha’s hand found his, and she twined her fingers with his. “I like it… like it a lot.”

“I am glad.”

Agatha leaned up the same time Tarvek bent to close that slight distance. This kiss was not as timeless as the previous one, but as she was cradled by his love and Tarvek’s arms, Agatha was certain she would remember it, and how their hearts slowly began to beat as one, and how warm the early summer morning sun was upon them both, forever.

Afterward, Tarvek leaned against the pillows, his arms loosely around her, the fingers of one hand combing through her hair, enjoying the glitter of sunlight upon the honeyed strands. Agatha rested her head on his shoulder, and toyed with a button on his shirt, noting the delicacy of the brasswork. She liked how she fit perfectly against him, and cuddled, simply enjoying being surrounded by his scent, and the man. Neither of them had spoken after the kiss, yet both also having been unwilling to pull away. Agatha had settled against him, and Tarvek had curled around her, as if he would try and shield them both from the world for as long as he could. Eventually the bells from the town’s clock sounding the hour drifted through the window, ending the moment.

“I will try to make contact with Zeetha today,” Tarvek murmured, reluctantly breaking the fragile silence. “The sooner the better.”

Agatha nodded abstractedly. She stroked her foot against Tarvek’s leg, oddly absorbed by the difference of the feeling of the cloth of his trousers and the softness of his skin, not quite a fugue. He had very fine skin, for a man; and he had the pallor of someone who stayed indoors most of the time.

“Agatha… I am sorry for earlier.”

Agatha looked up at Tarvek. “Don’t be. You’ve already apologised for your future impertinences that you might have to do.”

After a long thoughtful pause, Agatha sat up and pulled away. “Tarvek, can I borrow your dagger?”

“What for?” Tarvek looked puzzled and a little alarmed.

“Well, I don’t know what your father is expecting but, if he thinks we’ve…” she flushed “...gotten together, he might look for proof. I was thinking of making a small cut on my toe or something and smearing a bit of blood on the sheet.” She watched Tarvek bury his face in his hands and mutter obscenities in a language she couldn’t make out.

“Argh, he _would_ check. I can’t believe I-” Tarvek bit off what he wanted to say with a grimace. “Good catch, but let’s not use my dagger. It’s poisoned.” He paused to think. “My shaving razor should be fine after I disinfect it.”

Agatha blinked. “You shave yourself?”

“I know better than to let anyone near _my_ throat with a blade,” Tarvek chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seductive Sturmvoraus! (Ta-daa! pose) Poor Tarvek would really like to be able court his Lady properly, despite it all.
> 
> Decided to post this now instead of later. I think the next chapter will be considerably shorter. Sorry!


	3. Heaters, Heirs and How To Properly Drink Brandy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inhaling it is not how you do it.

Aaronev stalked through the hallways, scowling. It was _well_ past lunchtime, and he had seen neither hide nor hair of Tarvek and the Heterodyne girl. He paused, then chided himself. Tarvek had never indulged in bedwarmers or pillow companions before; he’d shown an almost worrying lack of interest in that, if it wasn’t for the fact he’d shown no flirtatious interest in men, so Aaronev had chalked it up to his son having high standards. _So he bloomed late, and for a Heterodyne at that. I can’t really complain then, can I? And since he’s held back this long, it shouldn’t be any surprise that he’d find such bedroom pleasures absorbing._

But the servants had informed him that the young Master and his Lady had left his apartments just after lunch and had disappeared into Tarvek’s main laboratory. So, that was where Aaronev was heading.

Anevka was standing outside the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a sardonically amused smile on her face. “Hello, Father. Come to watch the monkeys climb their bars?”

Aaronev peered into the lab. Tarvek was holding up a length of pipe while Agatha tightened its connection to another, humming strangely. They quickly linked the piping system they’d built - which ran around the whole lab - to a complicated machine in the middle of the room, which was surmounted by a large glass container ringed by copper pipes. The container roiled continuously, keeping the fluids within properly mixed.

 _“Alright! The heating elements have been primed! If my calculations are correct, the brine solution should go from room temperature to boiling hot in seven seconds!”_ Agatha told Tarvek as she popped out from under the machine. _“Throw the switch!”_

Tarvek grinned back at her, his expression showing he was in the throes of a gleeful Spark fugue. _“Don’t you want to throw the switch? That’s the_ fun _part!”_

_“It’s your machine!”_

_“You improved it!”_

_“Let’s throw the switch together, then!”_ Agatha dashed over to Tarvek and placed her hand over his. Together they threw the switch, and with a loud _fwoom_ a large ring of blue tinged fire lit under the glass container. They started counting down from seven, and exactly at zero, a chime went _ping!_ and the roiling liquid began to burble in earnest.

“Haha! _Success!_ ” Agatha and Tarvek gleefully gave each other a high-five, then ran off to separate sections of the pipework. _“It’s hot over here!”_ Agatha yelled.

_“Getting hot over here; wait, ow, it’s hot!”_

Aaronev watched Tarvek as he darted around the room. _He looks happy,_ Aaronev realised. _I haven’t seen him this happy since he got his pet midmoth, Rijn._

 _“I wish we could see where the fluid cools,”_ Agatha said as she strode back to Tarvek.

 _“Do you think the addition of a heat-affected colour-changing dye would make the brine-oil solution’s performance worse? Because I have a few ideas-”_ Tarvek waved toward his shelf of notebooks.

Aaronev cleared his throat, interrupting the two before they could dive headfirst (possibly literally) into Tarvek’s notes. “I’m glad to see the two of you enjoying yourselves,” Aaronev smiled at them, genuinely pleased.

“Ah, Father, good day to you,” Tarvek dropped out of his fugue, smiling. Behind him, Agatha curtseyed.

“It does seem like a good day, yes.” Aaronev eyed his son as Tarvek turned and drew Agatha close to him, smiling, his arm around her waist. Shyly, Agatha tucked her arm around Tarvek.

“I’ve taken the liberty of explaining a few things to Agatha,” Tarvek began. “Such as the state of disrepair her ancestral home is. She’s asked me for some help.”

Agatha nodded. “I only broke through recently as a Spark, and my education was interrupted by the Baron’s capture of me, even though he did not know who I was then.”

“Well, then!” Aaronev beamed. “You find fortune on your side, my child; for our whole family has been Gifted for some generations now. Stay here with us and study; we have the skill, resources and ability to aid you in your noble goal of restoring Castle Heterodyne to its former glory!” He hesitated and looked at Tarvek.

“She knows who I am, Father.” Tarvek said quietly.

Anevka raised her eyebrows at him from the doorway. “And she _didn’t_ think you were as loony as the March Hare?”

“No,” both Tarvek and Agatha said at the same time.

Anevka was startled into a laugh. “Oh, good for you then!”

Prince Aaronev chortled in delight. “Oh, this is wonderful! Surely this is destined, that the two of you find each other, Storm King and the Heterodyne Girl! And clearly a strong -ahem- spark of attraction between you both. I approve!”

Tarvek blinked as if he had forgotten. “Of what, Father?”

“Why your upcoming engagement!” Aaronev was all smiles. “I’ll have to fetch your mother’s ring out of the safe. Oh, she would have been beside herself with joy, with such a wonderful young lady as your bride to be…”

“Father, shouldn’t we _wait_ until we get Agatha’s Castle fixed and have her fully recognised as the Heterodyne?” Tarvek looked taken aback.

“Tarvek my boy, we have to keep your Agatha safe from those with lesser claims to the Lightning Throne! What better way than to betroth her to you, the legitimate heir!” Aaronev patted Agatha’s hand. “Don’t worry my dear girl; we’ll protect and help you. Tarvek will make you a fine husband, of that I am certain.”

“He will indeed, if he’ll have me,” Agatha said brightly. “Tarvek’s _wonderful!_ ” Anevka snorted a laugh from her spot at the doorway.

“See, son? I’ll fetch the ring, and you propose to her today! Welcome to the family, Agatha!” Aaronev looked so pleased he seemed almost ready to explode. Then suddenly he frowned. “Simply a pity though we cannot properly celebrate; it’ll have to be a secret for now, to keep you safe. But we can at least have cake!” The Prince brightened, as if cake solved everything.

“As long as Agatha’s alright with it.” Tarvek looked worriedly at her. Agatha smiled back, and after a moment, Tarvek began to smile too.

Aaronev looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

Anevka pushed her glasses up her nose. “Oh, I don’t know, perhaps the fact the two of them only met _yesterday_ might be a quelling factor, Father?”

“Nonsense!” the older Prince chuffed. “Whirlwind romances make for the _best_ operas!”

“This isn’t an opera.”

“But it _will_ be! Well, _eventually_ , once everything is out in the open.”

Anevka rolled her eyes at her brother, almost pitying him.

“Speaking of, Father, if you want Agatha to remain a secret, I have an idea for a cover story to sell to the Circus, so they don’t talk…” Tarvek began, resigned to the inevitable.

“Well then, if you don’t mind my borrowing your lovely Agatha, you men can have a little chat,” Anevka tugged Agatha from Tarvek’s side, blue eyes dancing mischievously. “Don’t worry, you’ll get her back, dear Brother; we’ll just have a rummage through my closets and play dress up. You’ll get her back in one piece.”

“Unharmed, Anevka,” Tarvek warned her.

“He makes such _awful_ jokes at my expense,” Anevka sighed to Agatha, who grinned as if she would be willing to laugh if someone would explain the joke.

“That’s _my_ line, sister dearest.”

“Tosh. _Relax_. We’ll have tea and nibbles, and I’ll tell her embarrassing stories about you, we’ll have fun!” With that, Anevka dragged Agatha away.

⚙

Tarvek followed Aaronev to his study, switching to his ‘cooperative conspiring child’ act as soon as Agatha was gone. “You’re scaring her, Father. Let _me_ do the work, and she’ll be _very_ happy to marry me after we get the Castle fixed.”

“She strikes me as more clever than that, Tarvek.” Aaronev paused in rummaging through his safe to give his son, now dressed in attire suited for the afternoon instead of a lab coat, a stern look over his own glasses. “You’ll want to make sure she’s well and truly attached to you before she is recognised as the Heterodyne.”

“Do you not trust my skills?” Tarvek raised his eyebrow at his father.

“Oh, they _did_ say that you could make a woman fall for you with that silver tongue of yours.” Aaronev bought out a small box. “I’m just unsure about how skilled your tongue is when it comes to… _other_ applications.”

“You’ve gotten strangely crude of late,” Tarvek frowned.

“You’re a man now; a little crudity shouldn’t make you blush like a maiden.” Aaronev handed him the box. “Your mother’s favourite ring. I thought briefly of giving the engagement ring that she got from me, but somehow… it feels like bad luck.”

“Given that you and she were an arranged match to ensure that I would be a Spark, I’d agree, as deeply unscientific as that is.”

“Considering how lucky we got in discovering the true Heterodyne heir… I would not be inclined to disbelieve at this moment.” Aaronev said.

Tarvek flipped open the box. Pale gold, a sapphire heart flanked by two rubies cut into brilliant triangles. He suddenly found himself remembering the last time he’d seen the ring.

_Screams, of defiance and pain. Blood on her hands. Hugging him close. The assassin who had tried to kill him, dead, but Mummy was getting cold-_

Tarvek shook himself and looked up. Aaronev was studying him. “She loved you very much, you know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much, and what I do remember of her face are from portraits.” Tarvek pocketed the box. “But thank you for telling me.”

Aaronev turned to the sideboard that occupied a couple of shelves to one side, selected a bottle of fine brandy and two snifters. As Tarvek watched, his father poured them each two fingers worth and handed his son one snifter. “To you and Agatha.”

Tarvek had watched how his father had been very deliberate in showing that there was no drugs in the drink, so he clinked his snifter to his father’s, nodded and drank. 

Tarvek rolled his mouthful around, appreciating the flavour. It was smooth and well aged; small wonder it was in his father’s study.

Aaronev looked at his son over the snifter. “Now, my son, I expect that you do your duty and get Agatha with child as soon as possible.”

Tarvek, who had been in the process of swallowing the mouthful, promptly snorted most of it out his nose, and inhaled the rest.

Aaronev frowned. “That’s not the way to treat a good 1845, Tarvek.”

After an extended coughing fit, Tarvek yanked a handkerchief from inside his pocket, and blew his nose, hoping the burning in his nostrils would subside quickly.

“Surely you’re not having _problems_ , are you?”

Tarvek eyed his father and was startled to find him actually concerned. _About the wrong things!_ Remembering at the last minute that he and Agatha were supposed to be lovers, Tarvek wiped at his eyes and cleaned his pince-nez with his square of silk. “I am most definitely _not_ ‘having problems’ in the bed! It’s just that I haven’t even proposed to her yet! You’ve skipped over the whole ‘need to fix the Castle and get the Heterodyne recognised before I am discovered to be the Storm King heir,’ as well as our needing to be _married_ so any children we have will be legitimate!” he rasped.

“The nice thing about ruling is I can order a priest to quietly marry you two,” Aaronev smiled.

“I think we’d like to _enjoy_ our engagement a little before that, Father,” Tarvek pleaded. “I know you’re excited but a _bit_ of normalcy would be good. Rushing this could be _very_ bad. She’s a strong Spark, and we don’t want her inventing wings because you got impatient. Plus, we _are_ supposed to be educating her.”

“Oh, very well.” Aaronev gave in, with ill grace. “Only because I can see you’re already attached and care for her. I suppose you _don’t_ want her to run, either.”

“I _do_ want her to stay with me. And I know you’re doing this only because you are happy for me, Father.” Tarvek soothed as he picked up his brandy again. “Speaking of staying, do you want me to handle what to tell her companions? We don’t want them spreading the wrong sort of stories.”

“Hmf, I don’t know why the opinion of commoners should worry you. And she _was_ a maiden, surprisingly.”

Tarvek smiled, even though it took a lot of self control not to be angry. “ _I’m_ not surprised. It’s Master Payne’s Circus of Adventure. They’ve been here before. They’ve a good reputation and their actresses do _not_ double as prostitutes. They took Agatha and her cat in because they’re decent people _despite_ being carnies.” He sipped his brandy, glad he’d been able to take this much control of the conversation. “But _do_ remember that if we want me to take the Throne of Lightning we want there to be no stains on her reputation or mine. They travel, and I can take advantage of that.”

Aaronev pondered that as he drank. “You’ve already come up with a story I suppose.”

“Naturally,” Tarvek smiled, letting a little deviousness creep into his tone. “Leave it to me, and they’ll be pleased to leave her in our care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Aaronev is still just wrong.


	4. Allies, Assassinations and Affections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarvek meets the Circus, just as planned. However, what passes for Tarvek's normal life in Sturmhalten continues as usual.

“She’s still not back. What are we going to do?” Pix fretted.

“What _can_ we do? It’s not as if we can have a messenger run to the palace and ask!” Abner hissed.

“I found out the Prince has a son,” Lars growled. “That’s _not_ good news.”

“Why?” Krosp asked.

“Because if she was invited for _his_ sake, we won’t see her until he tires of her or _worse.”_ He turned his eyes toward the looming structure of Sturmhalten. “He’s-”

“Don’t even _think_ about it, Lars!” Abner gasped. “He’s _royal._ They’ll skin you _alive_ for looking at him funny!”

“We did our best to try have it that such attentions were deflected,” Countess Marie said. “If she was subjected to shocking impertinences, we did our best. However… since she is so _late_ , she may have _wanted_ to stay.” She raised an eyebrow at Lars’ expression of disbelief. “As impossible as it may seem to _you.”_

“We may just find out. Look there.” Zeetha nodded towards the entrance to their camp allotment.

It was into this kind of talk that a richly dressed young man rode into their station camp. Zeetha eyed him as he looked around. He was tall, broad shouldered, was _just_ handsome enough to barely avoid being called pretty, and looked pale and studiously soft despite the trim lines of his body. With his long red hair tied back and a tiny, fussy pince-nez on his nose, he looked like a scholar or some highly placed paper-pusher. Yet when he swung down from his fine gray Andalusian stallion, it was with an easy grace that had Zeetha looking more closely at him. Standing there next to the winged Sturmvoraus sigil that hung from the horse’s neck, he was clearly no _mere_ liveried servant.

“I am looking for Master Payne,” the stranger announced. “I need to speak with him.” His voice carried, was commanding, and also had several of the actresses unconsciously straighten then stand as appealingly as possible without being too obvious about it. 

Zeetha leaned back on her heels. She’d heard of voices being described as almost caressing the listener; this was the first time she’d heard a man’s voice that _fit_ that description.

After a moment, Master Payne came forward, and bowed. “I am Payne. How may I serve, my Lord?”

“I am Tarvek Sturmvoraus. I wish to speak with you about the young lady we invited to the palace last night, Madame Olga.” The young man placed a hand upon his chest and inclined his head. At his speaking that surname, murmurs rippled nervously around him. Payne’s eyes widened as he walked forward, and he dropped to one knee.

“Your Highness, I hope she was pleasing to you.”

Prince Tarvek blinked. “Yes? She was lovely playing the spinet and we had a nice time talking… oh. _Oh!”_ He held up his hands and shook his head frantically. “That’s-” he flushed. “That’s _not_ why she stayed over!” He looked around, then gestured for Payne to get up. 

Payne looked at the young Prince with surprise. “It’s… not?”

“ _No_!” Tarvek looked shocked. “I would _never_ take advantage of my station in such a manner, sir! We were having the after-dinner dessert and aperitif when…” he trailed off. “She’s never had coffee before, has she? Or _any_ stimulants stronger than tea?”

Payne frowned and looked around. Several shakes of the head from a number of people. “It seems not.”

“Ah.” Tarvek had dropped his regal formality, and rubbed the side of his face, looking tired. “Fortunate then, that this happened in our household than on the road. _Very_ lucky indeed.”

“What happened to her?” Lars demanded.

“She’s in Breakthrough.”

Whatever the Circusfolk were expecting for an answer, it definitely wasn’t _that_. 

“We still don’t know what causes Breakthrough,” Tarvek began. “Mostly because so few of us _survive_ it. Yes,” he looked up when several of the people around him recoiled slightly. “ _I_ am a Spark. So are my father and my sister. But that’s why it is lucky for Miss Olga that this happened while she is visiting. My family’s managed Breakthroughs before. We’ll get her through it safely, but it’ll take time.”

“That’s… that’s good to hear.” Payne gestured for Lars to behave. “How long will it take?”

“We don’t know. Anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks. Olga’s currently taken over one of my labs and my sister is watching over her. We’ve been taking turns, mostly to make sure there are no explosions.” Tarvek suddenly looked worried. “I just hope Anevka doesn’t end up fugueing right along _with_ her.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yes, well. As I’ve said, we’ve handled Breakthrough before. At the very least I can guarantee she will come out of it alive, and hopefully intact.” Tarvek suddenly yawned. “Forgive me. I’ve been playing lab assistant all night. Safer than a servant doing so.” Then he sneezed. “The chemicals, you understand.”

“Ah… well, thank you, your Highness, for personally coming to tell us.” Payne hesitated. “What do you recommend we do?”

Tarvek pondered. “If you’d like to wait a few days, I’ll see to it that you have access to the theatre to put on public performances, and are granted what you need as my guests. I’ve prepared this for you,” he reached into his waistcoat and gave Payne a sealed envelope. “You can requisition supplies and anything else you need for the duration of your stay. Show this letter, and you won’t need to pay for _anything.”_ Tarvek brushed his fingers against the sword and gear sigil at his throat.

“That’s… that’s very generous of you, your Highness. Thank you. If it’s all right, may I confer with my people before we make a decision? It won’t take long.” Payne humbly bowed.

“Of course. Oh, there’s something else.” Tarvek looked around, then smiled when he saw Zeetha. “Her! May I speak with her while you confer? Olga keeps talking about her cat, and I was hoping to bring him back. I am told the Lady with the green hair is the only one fast enough to catch her cat.”

Zeetha nodded. Tarvek spoke to his horse, then walked away from it, evidently trusting the animal to stay put. Zeetha looked him up and down, then jerked her head, indicating Tarvek should follow, which he did like a cheerful puppy.

When they were just outside the Baba Yaga, and well away from anyone else, Tarvek stopped, pretended to look fascinatedly at the weird chicken-legged wagon-house and spoke through his grin of delight in a voice pitched low enough for only Zeetha to hear. “I was asked to repeat this to you: ‘Your _zumil_ asks this of her _kolee:_ please trust this man.’”

Zeetha stared at him, then nodded again. “I see. Alright. Well, let’s see if Krosp is inside. Watch your head.” She climbed into the ambulatory wagon.

Tarvek followed her, sincerely fascinated by the odd thing despite himself. When he got inside, Zeetha eyed him searchingly. 

“That was _quite_ the performance out there, your Highness,” Zeetha said. “You looked natural, down to the concern. We could put you on stage. Want to run away and join the Circus?”

“Agatha -yes, I know who she _really_ is- knows I am here.” Tarvek folded his arms into the small of his back.

“Then you know that nobody out there believes you at _all_ , right?”

“Yes. But not all of it was a story. I did not touch her, and she is safe. That, I can promise you, your Highness.” He paused. “So you can decide against trying to brain me, Herr Lars. It’ll do you no good even if you try.”

“How did you-”

Tarvek smiled at him over his shoulder, then very deliberately sat down on a narrow bench that sat against a wall, relaxing as he did so.

Lars grimaced, and lowered the blackjack but did not put it away, which only seemed to amuse the young Prince.

“Yeah… you’re _definitely_ aren’t as soft as you look,” Zeetha confirmed. “So, talk.”

Tarvek summarised what had happened during dinner the night before, leaving out how amorous Agatha had been and the kisses he’d shared with her. “For reasons of our own, we Sturmvoraus have an interest in the Heterodyne heiress, but I _can_ say it is not harmful to her.”

“And why won’t you tell us that?” Lars challenged him. He had been shocked to find out that Agatha ‘Clay’ was really Agatha _Heterodyne._ Tarvek’s dry “Do I need to explain about the drugged wine again?” had cut through Lars’ sputtering like a scalpel through skin. Only the expression of rage Tarvek wore at the mention of the wine had stopped Lars from trying to punch him - the young Prince was as furious at what had been done to Agatha as Lars himself was.

Tarvek leveled a quelling stare at him. “Because if it gets out, and Agatha’s identity gets to people who _shouldn’t_ know until she’s safe, it will go _very_ badly. I’ve made a point of not telling people willy nilly and that’s why I am still _alive_. I’ll tell you when I get her out.”

“And you are planning that, are you?” Krosp looked at him archly. “From what I know of your family history, you Sturmvoraus have more interest of wanting to ensure the Heterodynes were _contained.”_

“Yes. Agatha wishes to reach Mechanicsburg, and thus I will help her escape, _regardless_ of the history of our respective families. But there’s things she needs to know and learn that will help her in repairing the Castle in the long run, so she’s unlikely to leave soon. The cover story I gave will give excuse for why she hasn’t returned, and I am certain there were ears.”

“And what she needs to learn will take time?”

“Yes. I can prepare a place for you to hide, but it’s on the other side of the pass. I strongly suggest that a decision be made by Master Payne to leave in a few days.” Tarvek took a deep breath. “She will meet your Circus in Mechanicsburg, I promise.”

Krosp looked at the other two. “He’s telling the truth.”

Lars still stared at him suspiciously. “Why are you doing this then?”

“I see no reason to lie: I like her. But I will _not_ do anything to compromise her; Agatha’s too important for me to be distracted by romance right now.” Tarvek replied. “Besides you are aware that if I _didn’t_ care, we could have just let you think I spirited her away as a bedwarmer, and nobody would think twice at all if she was kept as my concubine? After all, that was _why_ she was dressed and made up to be as unappealing as possible - my compliments to your makeup artist; that was a work of _art_ \- to try deflect the interest of a predatory noble, right? But I don’t want her reputation sullied, and I wanted to warn you - especially to make sure you didn’t stage a rescue. That would have gotten you _killed_.”

Zeetha frowned as she acknowledged the truth of this. “Yeah. You _didn’t_ have to go out of your way to be all nice and noble. That note to Payne was a nice touch by the way.”

Tarvek grinned mischievously. “Make like bandits, but don’t be too obviously greedy about it. We’ve all a role to play if the Lady Heterodyne is to be kept safe. I suggest that what I have said be related only to Master Payne for now; he is discreet.” He paused, and added, “Also, if I can entrust to you getting supplies for you to use when waiting at the hiding place, it’ll be easier to do.”

Krosp eyed him with approval. “I like you. You think like a cat.”

“High praise from the Emperor of Cats.” Tarvek sketched a bow. “Now, shall we? I’ll go back to being the fretful Prince and you go back to being an ordinary cat. No, no, don’t shed the little greatcoat,” Tarvek grinned. “It befits the pet of an actress.” He picked Krosp up, and the Moldovian Puff settled into his arms like a normal cat and allowed himself to be petted as Tarvek pretended to ask Zeetha about cat care and what foods Krosp preferred or not. Then he waited by his horse as Zeetha and Lars joined the rest of the company’s meeting.

Master Payne decided to stay a few days longer. He and Tarvek spoke while someone found a basket to carry Krosp in. Basket found, Tarvek climbed into the saddle with unconscious grace and settled Krosp’s basket in front of him.

“Good luck, your Highness. Please take good care of Olga during this difficult time, and give her our regards.” Master Payne bowed with a flourish.

“I shall. Good day to all of you.” Tarvek wheeled his horse around and cantered away. They watched as the crowds parted for him, thanks to the winged sword-in-gear device on the horse. It did not escape their attention that while Prince Tarvek rode away at a steady pace, he did not do so at a speed that made it impossible to get out of the way.

“I don’t trust him,” Lars growled.

“Of course you don’t. He’s competition.” Zeetha smiled at him. “ _Serious_ competition too. Plus he’s very, _very_ good. He picked a story he _knew_ we wouldn’t believe and hoped we would play along - big gamble there. Whatever Agatha’s gotten caught up in, she’ll get out of.”

Lars looked at her. “You trust him.” He sounded betrayed.

“Yes. Because he really _didn’t_ have to do any of that himself. He could’ve sent a servant with some high handed letter, and what choice would we have had but to choke on it? He did all that to make sure _you_ didn’t get killed… and to get us to send a message to the Jägers.”

⚙

When they reached Sturmhalten Tarvek went straight to his rooms, pausing only to tell two servants to let Agatha know he had returned, and to ask for chopped fish. When he got to his apartments, Tarvek went out to the balcony and leaned against the hewn-stone balustrade, holding Krosp in his arms.

“I do hope you won’t scratch me, kitty,” he said. “I don’t want we find you suddenly having had an accident here, since my Lady loves you so.” Tarvek scratched between Krosp’s ears and smiled when the cat purred. “So glad you understand, hm? I really do like Agatha. I hope she’ll say yes when I propose later.” Tarvek sighed, and looked out over the town in the late afternoon sun.

After several moments, Krosp looked up at Tarvek. “The smell of another person is gone now. Was that all for their benefit?”

“Partly, yes. But I am glad to know you can sense the Smoke Knights in a way they don’t expect.” Tarvek set him on the carved stone table that he kept there for the occasions he felt like having tea on the balcony. “It would be best if you kept to my rooms for tonight, at least so we can establish that you will ‘know’ your new home.”

“You are very good at pretending to be something you’re not.” Krosp observed, sitting on the table.

“Yes. That includes pretending to be Agatha’s lover.” Tarvek paused, and flushed. “And pretending to be... mating with her. Enthusiastically so.”

“Is that a warning to me that you’ll have to get handsy with Agatha now and again and I shouldn’t bite you?” The tomcat grinned when Tarvek nodded. “Good, because now that I’m here I’ll defend her from unwanted advances.”

“There won’t be any.” Tarvek looked at the white cat. “I really _do_ love her, Krosp. She’s wonderful and I would like nothing more than for us to be together and… but there are other things to consider, so I will tell you ahead of time what I couldn’t tell Zeetha and Lars and I _must_ ask that you keep it to yourself for now.”

“The reason why the Sturmvoraus want Agatha? I’m all ears.”

“I’m the Storm King’s heir.”

Krosp’s eyes widened as he quickly recalled the stories, histories and more importantly, the supposed Prophecy of Europa that the marriage of the Storm King and the Heterodyne Princess was supposed to fulfill. “I see…” the cat said slowly. “So you’ve got that baggage on top of everything. You’re working against your own interests then.”

“I don’t want Agatha to be pressured into marrying me just because I happen to be the Storm King, though my father is happy to. I barely talked him out of getting us married _tonight._ Rrgh,” Tarvek growled. “I’ll have to be careful as it is because he’ll likely dose Agatha’s food with something, either to make her more amenable to suggestions about staying here, or…” Tarvek flushed.

“I see.” The cat looked at Tarvek with new respect. “Very difficult circumstances you find yourself in then, your Majesty. Especially since you really _do_ like her. Few would have your restraint.” 

“I thank you for commiserating with me, your Majesty.” Tarvek sighed. “I can’t even sleep on the couch outside to give her space, and we’ll probably need to share my bed starting tonight, unless I can put on a convincing enough show that we’ll be... busy… most of the night.”

“So why do you Sturmvoraus have unique information about Castle Heterodyne anyway?”

Before Tarvek could answer, Agatha entered the room. Her face lit up when she saw who Tarvek was talking to. She hurried over and hugged the cat.

“How did everything go?” Agatha asked Tarvek. 

“I’ll tell you about the Circus first,” Tarvek replied. He and Krosp related the tale.

“Lars tried to hit you from behind?!” Agatha gasped.

“Oh, I was in no danger,” Tarvek assured her. “You see…” suddenly he was a blur of motion, seemingly there one moment, and gone the next, to stand behind Agatha, punching a figure swathed in dark clothes he’d pulled out of the curtains. With quick, practised movements, Tarvek avoided the knife to the gut the assassin tried to stab him with, snapped his neck with a sharp blow using the edge of his other hand, and used the momentum of the would-be-killer’s attack to send his corpse sailing over the balcony and into the rocks far, far below.

“...I deal with people trying to _kill_ me very, very frequently,” Tarvek finished. “And nobody, and I mean _nobody_ knows I can do so much as throw a knife straight.” He suddenly held a finger to his lips. “Would you like some tea, my darling? The sunset is quite lovely this time of the year.”

“That sounds lovely,” Agatha replied, taking her cue. She had stiffened at the sudden unexpected violence and Tarvek’s abrupt change in demeanor. Tarvek went back into the parlour and suddenly was no longer visible. Agatha heard the sound of metal singing against metal, then peered around the doorway with Krosp in her arms.

Tarvek stood in the centre of the room, the twin rapiers that had been on display in his hands, their blades buried into the two assassins that had attacked him from front and side. With a graceful twist, Tarvek pulled back the swords, let the bodies fall at his feet, and then carefully cleaned the blades on their clothes before returning the two slender swords to their display rack.

Krosp looked shaken. “I didn’t even _smell_ those!”

Agatha slowly approached, eyes darting back and forth as if she expected another assassin to attack. “That was amazing, Tarvek.”

“Why, thank you. There aren’t any more, by the way, so you can relax now.” Tarvek had started to rummage around the assassins’ clothes, unearthing a number of knives, vials, darts and other sundry, which he carefully laid aside.

“Who sent them?” Krosp asked.

“I think… my cousin Leopold. He’s further down the line of succession.” Tarvek finished searching the bodies, then dragged them out to the terrace. He quickly disposed of them, then returned to scrutinise the floor. Sighing, he went to a set of drawers, pulled out some rags and a spray bottle and carefully cleaned the carpet of a few smears of blood.

“I thought you said you _didn’t_ fence,” Agatha said as she watched. She now understood why his body felt so deliciously muscled under her fingertips when she’d touched him that morning.

“That wasn’t fencing. It’s... a bit of a lot of different fighting styles I’ve put together to form my own, I suppose.” Tarvek dropped the cleaning cloth into the fireplace, placed all the things he’d gotten into a box and went into the ensuite to wash his hands. When he came out Agatha was standing in the bedroom, waiting for him, Krosp standing next to her. The young Prince looked at her with sympathy, then held out his arms in invitation. When Agatha stepped up to him, Tarvek enfolded her in a protective embrace, letting her put her head on his shoulder and stroking her hair gently.

“I’m sorry, Agatha. You’re still new to your being the Heterodyne and… all this.” Tarvek laid his cheek against her hair. “I’ll build you a death ray, in case something happens when I am not around, but I promise you, I will protect you, with my life if need be.”

“I’d like that. Well, _not_ the dying for me part. _Don’t_ do that, please.” Agatha said, feeling her knees go weak at the thought of Tarvek making her a death ray. “But that’s not why I’m…” she looked up at him. “You sound so very used to this.”

“I’m afraid so.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “That’s… terrible.”

“It’s necessary.” Tarvek sighed. “And it is something I am afraid you will have to also get used to, as the Heterodyne.”

Agatha nodded. “Zeetha’s been training me some. I haven’t done any today.”

“What does it involve?” Tarvek asked. “So I can find you the necessary equipment.”

“Lots of running, avoiding her weapons, and sometimes with an anvil for two or more hours each morning.”

“...How very ecumenical and economical. If you want, we can run through the fortress’ hallways and staircases and try not to break our necks in the process.”

“‘We’? Are you joining me?” Agatha looked at him in surprise.

“Well, yes. How else am I going to convince my family it’s just regular exercise and not you trying to escape?” Tarvek said reasonably. “And I _do_ keep fit.”

Agatha chuckled at the mental image of them tearing up and down Sturmhalten. “Won’t your father be upset?” 

“If he gets to turn our lives upside down like this, I think _he_ can survive the strangeness of an improvised daily exercise routine.” At that, Tarvek scowled darkly. “That reminds me. I’m supposed to propose to you. He gave me my mother’s favourite ring to do it with.”

“That’s…” Agatha considered it. “That’s actually unexpectedly sweet of him.”

“Yeeeeess… which is why I am weirded out. His behaviour has been strange to me.” Tarvek released her and stepped back. 

“May I see it?”

Tarvek dug his hand into his pocket and brought out the carved wooden box. He’d been preoccupied before, but the box itself was a work of art, made of different colored woods to form a rose, and the edges of the box were carefully carved leaves. Before he could open it though, Krosp coughed.

“Might I suggest you do it as if you _are_ proposing to her for real? If your father is really keen, he will want to hear how you did it… from _Agatha_.”

Tarvek looked uncomfortable. He glanced at Agatha’s hand, which still had Lars’ ring on it. Even though he knew it was fake, after having met the man he didn’t discount the actor’s feelings as irrelevant. There had been the expected jealousy there, but also protectiveness. Lars had been willing to attack him, a royal in the seat of his power, and a Spark, for Agatha’s sake. The man was also the Circus’ scout, with a good sense of danger. There was no way he _hadn’t_ known about the consequences that may have befallen him… and the rest of the Circus.

Yet Lars had been willing to attack Tarvek, for Agatha’s sake.

Knowing that, the schemes and plans in his head removed themselves, leaving his mental desk blankly empty.

“No.” Tarvek shook his head, and handed Agatha the box. “I think not.” He wore a strangely shuttered expression. “I promised you I wouldn’t go too far in my impertinence, and doing _that_ is too far.” He met Agatha’s eyes with his own. “I swore to you I would not lie to you. If I proposed to you with this ring with all of my heart, with the _intent_ of deceit, then I would have broken my vow.” He gently lifted her hand. “Two men before me have slipped a ring onto your finger with the sincere intent of protecting you, Agatha… but they did so with their hearts unclouded, their feelings for you true. I cannot… _will not_ be the third, and do it with any falsehood staining the act.”

Gently, he kissed her knuckles, then stepped back, a soft smile on his face. “I’ll give you two some space to talk. I’ll be in my study; the materials about the Castle arrived while I was gone and I should organise them. Your Majesty, your Serene Highness…” Tarvek bowed and left. A few seconds later, Krosp and Agatha heard a door open and close in his wake.

Krosp turned to look flatly at Agatha. “Please tell me you’ve figured out a way to escape from here.” His tail swished.

“I haven’t. And I can’t leave without getting everyone else into trouble. Tarvek is working on it. He hasn’t lied to me once at all, Krosp.” Agatha chided. “I trust him.”

“I know. And that’s the problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, Tarvek did not take Tinka (he did not need to, after all.) So the Circus folk do not recognise him.


	5. Past, Present and Perhaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarvek thinks about the past. Agatha has a little chat with him.

Tarvek sat at his desk, staring sightlessly at the bound notebooks and reports stacked in front of him. He tried to picture himself asking Agatha to marry him… and he couldn’t. He would’ve thought that he would’ve had a thousand ways to plead for a woman of his heart to pledge her troth to him, and yet... imagining Agatha standing there in front of him with her large green eyes fixed on his, and all his vocabulary failed - in _all_ the languages he knew.

It didn’t help that Tarvek knew that while she seemed to care for him, and was definitely attracted to him, she didn’t want to stay. Knowing that, he _couldn’t_ ask her.

Even if it was the thing he _wished_ he could do. If Tarvek had no thought for anything but his own whims and desires, he could have done everything that he had told Zeetha and Lars he could’ve done. He could have taken Agatha and made her _his_ , made her love him…

But for the fact that Tarvek knew, without love and trust, no marriage would _survive_. 

His parents’ hadn’t, Tarvek had discovered during a visit to Grandma’s.

An arranged marriage, Aaronev Wilhelm and Marianya Anaïs had been introduced young, _too_ young for feelings of love. They cared for each other, yes, but love had never blossomed, it seemed. They married, shared a bed, had a daughter. Then while Tarvek’s mother had carried him beneath her heart, Wilhelm had fallen passionately in love for the wrong woman: Lucrezia Mongfish.

Wanton, vivacious and sensual, she was the opposite of Anaïs, who was a graceful, elegant gentle beauty, whose gift for music she had passed on to her son with her brown eyes and Valois red hair. From her Tarvek inherited eyes that saw through façades, ears that heard too much, the blood of a King and a heart that understood people too well.

Lucrezia had taken Wilhelm, seduced him from his marriage vows and bed, then, as his wife laboured to bring his heir to the world, urged him to run away with her.

Thinking his duties to the Order finished with the birth of his son, Wilhelm snuck out of the castle, to their arranged meeting place.

Lucrezia wasn’t there. And never showed up.

As dawn approached, Wilhelm made the decision to return to the palace. As he slipped into their rooms, the first cries of a newborn rang through the autumn air.

Shedding his greatcoat and hiding his knapsack, Wilhelm went to Anaïs’ rooms, and when he was finally allowed in to see his wife and the newborn Aaronev Tarvek, Anaïs smiled at him with eyes that showed her heartbreak, as her tears, which could be explained away as joy, gemmed the soft, feathery shock of red hair of their son.

And it was then that Wilhelm realised that his gentle, quiet wife had loved him, with a depth of feeling that he would never be able to adequately express nor perceive; knowing only that the same day he had realised it, he had also lost it, for his wife had learned of his infidelity.

Nothing had ever been the same between them again, no matter what Wilhelm did, especially after he found out he wasn’t the only one Lucrezia embraced, that Klaus Wulfenbach had fallen afoul of her and vanished. Nor had marriage kept Bill Heterodyne safe, to the tragedy of a son who died far, far too young, and the disappearance of the Heterodyne Boys. Tarvek’s mother died to protect the son she had poured her love into, for Anevka had turned to her father in the wake of the strain of their marriage. And Aaronev Wilhelm, without Anaïs to ground and subtly guide him, soon lost touch with what was good inside of him, though he loved in his own way, the two children she had borne.

Tarvek knew he loved like his mother had done - by being tender, supportive, and building a lasting love whose house was warmed by a steady flame. It was the kind of love that would start deep and only grow deeper and stronger as the years passed. Yet Tarvek had fallen for Agatha like his father had fallen for Lucrezia - like a man struck by lightning, as he’d heard an Italian once say. He had caught himself in a trap of his own soul-felt oaths, and a heart of noble intentions with the skillset of a villainous mastermind had run against each other fast. But the heart wants what the heart wants, neither reason nor logic could gainsay it.

“There’s no help for it,” Tarvek murmured to himself. “I am already hers, even if…” he clenched his fist at the unfamiliar sharp pang of pain in his heart, “...Even if she _doesn’t_ want me.” He blinked, then huffed a mocking laugh aimed at himself, because while he’d been lost in thought, his idle hands had worked: The notes and reports were sorted, and Tarvek had written out a neat lesson plan. 

A knock from the parlour had Tarvek standing up, knowing who was there. “Come in.”

Agatha stepped in. “A servant brought Krosp a big bowl of chopped fish, and he’s out on the balcony eating. Thank you.”

Tarvek smiled. “I’ll admit that I want him not to hate me, and am not above _bribing_ him with fish if I have to.”

“That’s a good start,” Agatha grinned. Then the smile faded as she looked at him seriously. “Tarvek, with everything that has happened, I’ve barely had a moment to really think about it, but… Krosp pointed out a few things to me.”

“Such as?”

“Why are you doing this? You… you said it’s because you love me, and everything you’ve done so far is consistent with the vows you spoke this morning.” Agatha looked uncomfortable. “But when I had a really good look, you… don’t get anything out of doing all this for me. Quite the opposite. You’re… throwing away the very reason you were _born_.”

Tarvek’s smile was understanding. “You suspect my motives.”

Agatha winced. “That’s not… inaccurate, but sounds awful when you put it that way. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. _Everyone_ mistrusts me.” Tarvek waved it aside.

Agatha looked stricken. “Tarvek, I-”

“Shh, it’s really alright.” Tarvek walked around the table, took her by the shoulders and rubbed his palms up and down her upper arms, soothingly. “I’m used to it. Amongst the Valois, I have a reputation for being a very good schemer, and I am indeed very _good_ at what I do. I’m a great, big devious weasel.”

To Tarvek’s surprise, she did not look happy at that, nor did she laugh at his words. She looked… hurt. “What’s wrong?”

“...You put yourself down a lot, you know that?”

“Nothing I’ve said just now is untrue, Agatha.” Tarvek looked wry. “But I suppose I do. I’m… not a very good person. _None_ of us really are, in my family. But… you make me _want_ to be better.”

“Well, what does that say about me? _I’m_ willing to play along with your scheme.” 

“That you’re a victim of an unfortunate circumstance with no other real options? If you’d never been invited to visit with us, you would have been on your way to Mechanicsburg by now.” Tarvek shrugged. “Granted, I’d have never met you, but at least you wouldn’t be a prisoner here now.” He suppressed the flash of hurt at the thought of never having met someone as wonderful as Agatha. His world would have been so much more bleak.

“You’re used to people trying to kill you, and you take for granted that you’re a manipulative mastermind,” Agatha shook her head. “But you still haven’t told me what you get out of helping me.”

“Do I really have to ‘get’ something out of it?” Tarvek huffed a laugh. “No, that makes sense. No sane person would act with a hundred percent altruism. I could make a flippant quip about my being a madboy, so none of the things I do _have_ to make sense, but that’s not fair to you.” He gazed at her for several moments, as if organising his thoughts the way he had the notes on his desk.

“I want you to think well of me, Agatha. That in time, you will trust me, and perhaps, I will be lucky enough that you call me a friend. Those are things I _don’t_ have, you see, and it is something I hope to _earn_ in your regard, more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.” He dropped his eyes down, and noticed that she’d moved the wirework ring from her left hand to her right.

“What about love?” Agatha’s voice was very soft, and he almost did not catch her whisper.

 _“I_ love you. Your feelings… that’s up to _you_. The kisses we share aside, having you come to care for me would be a dream come true. The pretense we must do for now is just to get you what you need, no more, no less, and once I get you out of here, it ends. My heart is yours; do with it as you will. While I am at your side, for as long as you need me to be, I will protect you and help you, and I will gain your freedom from here. I ask for nothing more than to be allowed to do so.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m coming with you, of course. You will need a strong Spark with you to help with the repairs to the Castle.” Tarvek grinned. “Besides, it may be the only time a Sturmvoraus can visit the place _without_ it wanting to eat me. I’ll make myself useful.”

“What will you do afterward?” Agatha asked, curious. “Your father will be furious.”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Tarvek admitted. “But he’s not one to have the right to be furious with me for running away.” At the creasing of Agatha’s brow, he waved it aside. “Old, unhappy family history.”

Agatha gazed at him for several moments, then nodded quietly. “Then… place this on my finger, Tarvek.” She held up the ornate box, with his mother’s ring inside the velvet-lined slot.

“I told you I would not.”

“No, you said you would not put it on my finger with the intent to deceive. And nothing you said just now is a lie. Put the ring on my finger, as the symbol of your feelings and intentions. I will wear it, for those reasons you gave.” Agatha placed the box in his hand, then held out her left hand to him. “The misunderstandings of other people are not our problem.”

 _Our_ _problem_ , Tarvek thought. He felt like his feet no longer touched the ground. Carefully he tugged the ring from it’s box, then he took her hand and gently slid the ring on her heart’s finger. It fit as if it belonged there. Tarvek felt his heart skip a few beats, as he allowed himself a moment to hope, to dream… 

“It looks good on you. My mother, Princess Anaïs, would have been happy to see it worn thus.” Tarvek wanted to tell her he didn’t think his mother would mind her keeping the ring, even if… He let his eyelashes veil his gaze, before she could notice what he was thinking. Tarvek moved to let go.

Agatha’s fingers curled around his, stopping Tarvek from pulling away. She’d seen something flicker across his expression, prompting Agatha into setting aside her curiosity about his mother. She took a deep breath, gazing at the new ring on her finger.

“I _do_ think well of you, Tarvek. You’ve been far nobler than you give yourself credit for, even if you might also be all those things you said you are. I can’t deny I’m _very_ attracted to you, and every time you say you love me, I feel all warm inside, like I just drank sweet mead. I _can_ say I do care, that I have feelings about you, or else I wouldn’t feel so upset to hear you put yourself down so much.” She raised her eyes to his. “But I don’t know about love just yet. I... don’t know.”

“That’s more than I hoped to hear from you, ever. As for love… take all the time you need to decide. I am content.” Tarvek bent to kiss her hand, but Agatha caught him by his waistcoat lapel, and pulled him to her for a _real_ kiss, as should be done, she thought, after a man puts a ring on a woman’s finger. A moment after their lips met, Agatha realised that kissing _after_ having a ring put on her finger _hadn’t_ happened before. Clumsy as it was with that awkward start, she kissed Tarvek with a fierceness that surprised them both. Then Agatha hugged him tight, pressing Tarvek’s head against her shoulder, frowning. 

“One thing’s for sure… I’m starting to feel _very_ protective about you. ‘Used people trying to kill me’ my left eye.” Agatha growled. “The world would be much poorer if you were dead.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’ s ever said about me for as long as I can remember,” Tarvek mumbled against her neck, smiling as he fought not to lose his balance. “But unfortunately, people wanting to kill us is… something we should prepare for.” He straightened carefully. “Come on. I’ve got something I want to show you. Let’s bring Krosp, if he’s done eating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I smudged when Tarvek was born to having it coincide with when Klaus got banished by Lucrezia. He's only 10 months older than Gil. I'm using the line from the first novel that Klaus says he was away less than four years to find Europa in ruins as my timeframe for this story.


	6. Muses, Mothers and Meals with the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarvek takes Agatha to his clank lab, then they have dinner with his family.

The laboratory that Tarvek brought Agatha and Krosp to was different from the one that Agatha had been in, where they’d made the test version of the improved heating system. This one was filled with what Agatha initially thought were dead bodies on hooks, but when she looked closer, the pale forms were humanoid clank bodies, the most complicated and delicately made she’d ever seen.

Reaching out to lift the fully articulated hand of one, and stared at the marvel she beheld. _Why, with this alone, you could improve so many prosthetics…_ “Tarvek… did you _make_ these?” Agatha breathed. “They’re… they’re amazing! But why are they not activated? Are you still building them?”

“They’re not activated because they’re just practice work,” Tarvek replied, pleased by the expression of delighted wonder Agatha wore.

Astounded, Agatha turned to look at him. “ _Practice work?!_ Why, any one of these are surely ready to make into working, functioning automata! They… they’re the best I’ve seen!” _Outside of a Van Rijn,_ she amended quietly.

At that, Tarvek’s face fell. “As good as they are, they’re not good enough.” Gently he guided her around the corner and deeper into the lab. Against the far wall sat a tall-backed chair, in which sat what seemed to be a woman at first, but when Agatha looked closer, was another clank dressed in a soft robe, her brown wig arranged into a dancer’s updo.

“Y-your Muh-Majesty?” The voice that came from the figure seated on the throne was the most human-sounding Agatha had ever heard come from a clank. “Is -sst- that you?”

“Agatha… meet Tinka.” Tarvek said sadly. “She is one of Van Rijn’s Muses. Tinka, this is Agatha Heterodyne, the heir of the Heterodyne family.”

“L-lady Heh-Heterodyne,” Smoothly, the Muse stood up and bowed with incredible grace - and then fell over. Tarvek caught her before the beautiful Muse’s face hit the carved stone floor.

“What happened to her?” Agatha whispered. The Circus said that she’d been taken, but to think that _Tarvek_ had her…

Tarvek looked at the Muse of the Dance with sorrowful eyes as he steadied her. Tinka stood like a gracefully posed statue, when he stepped hesitantly back. “My father saw her dancing on stage the last time Master Payne’s Circus of Adventure came through Sturmhalten three years ago. At first he thought it was a person dressed up as a Muse, but when he had a closer look… he discovered that she was the genuine article.” Tarvek buried his face in his hands. “This is my fault,” he moaned.

“How so?” Krosp asked as he pawed through a box full of beautifully made hands.

“In my family, indeed, in academia, I’m well known for my obsession with the Muses. I’ve studied everything I could find about them. Only Dr. Beetle has greater knowledge than I do. My dream is to find them all one day, and restore them to their original glory.” Tarvek gently helped Tinka sit back down. “My father bought her - not that the Circus really had any option of refusing, but he paid them well it seems - intending to give her as a present for my birthday. But he couldn’t resist ‘taking a look.’” For a moment Tarvek bared his teeth in a snarl of rage. “I repaired her as best as I could.” He gestured around the room. “These were my efforts to try improve my skills, but I’ve hit my limit.”

Agatha chewed on her lower lip, considering. Tarvek was the Storm King; that meant that the Muses were part of his legacy from Andronicus Valois, along with the Lightning Throne. “What if you had Van Rijn’s notes?”

“Oh, my Lord it might help, oh so _much!”_ Tarvek breathed. “But I don’t know of any notes… perhaps if his fabled Hermitorium were ever _found…”_

“I have them,” Agatha whispered. “Moxana gave them to me. They’re in my wagon.”

“Moxana?!” Tarvek gasped. “Is she alright?”

“She was fine the last I saw her.” Agatha began, but suddenly Tarvek held his finger to his lips and grabbed a clank leg. He quickly opened it up, revealing some of the most complicated and delicately made clankwork Agatha had ever seen. It hurt her to see him reach in and deliberately snap some of the joinings, but then Tarvek brought out some tools and gestured her close.

“So, as you can see, I made the hydraulics for this section smaller, but the metal became too thin to handle the stresses and broke.” Tarvek poked at the section he had just broken with a pair of needlenose pliers. “I think I may have to experiment with other metals soon. Steel would work, but it would also make it much heavier.”

“Ah, _there_ you two are!” Anevka sauntered into the room. “Tsk, still playing with your dolls, Tarvek? There are much _better_ things to occupy your time now.”

Tarvek ignored her sly tone. “I was showing Agatha some of the work I’ve done.”

“Yes, well, you will need to set it aside for now. Father wants to have supper with you and Agatha. He’s waiting in the Alabaster Parlour.” Anevka turned to Agatha and smiled. “There’s cake for dessert.”

“Well, we”ve been here for a while now,” Agatha said. “I am feeling a bit peckish.” She noticed that Tinka had gone limp and still, as if she were as broken as the other clank bodies in the room.

“Then let us go and join Father for tea, shall we?” Tarvek carefully put away the tools he’d snatched up, and offered his arm to both Agatha and his sister. With them on either side of him, they walked through the halls.

“Tarvek said you broke through only a few years ago,” Agatha began. “What’s your Spark like, if I may be so bold and ask, your Highness?”

“Anevka, _please_ , my dear. We’re practically _family_ now after all!” Anevka smiled as she squeezed Tarvek’s arm. “I have a strong focus in the biological sciences, like Father does. I was supposed to study in Transylvania Polygnostic but that _dreadful_ business with the Baron came up, so it was decided it was too unsafe for me to go.” Anevka sounded annoyed. “I’m hoping to convince Father to let me go to the Institute of the Extraordinary in Paris instead, or Vienna’s Institute of Learning Ecumenism.”

“Father should have let you go study before,” Tarvek said, frowning. 

“Well, he tutored me all these years, and I certainly learned a lot,” Anevka replied. “But we’re finally reaching the end of his knowledge. Ah, here we are.” She let go of Tarvek’s arm to walk ahead as a footman opened the door for them.

The parlour’s walls were a creamy white, edged in pale periwinkle. Paintings hung upon the walls; landscapes and portraits, as well as of scenes of battle. Particularly prominent was the portrait of a lovely woman with shining auburn hair posed sitting at a spinet, her husband standing attentively behind her. Without being told, Agatha knew this had been the late Princess Anaïs, for she wore the same smile Tarvek often wore. Prince Aaronev had looked much like Tarvek in his youth, but there was something slightly rougher in his features, as if the sire had been a sketch, and Tarvek was the oil painting. Unlike Tarvek, Aaronev had worn his hair combed back from his face, and unbound.

Tarvek’s father himself was standing in front of a different portrait of his late wife with their children. Anevka wore her hair in curls and already wore glasses, while Tarvek, still a baby in his mother’s arms and swathed in a white christening gown, stared owlishly out from the portrait, his red hair floofing from his little head like a dandelion’s petals, large eyes still baby blue.

Agatha grinned up at Tarvek. “You looked _adorable!”_

“Your children will be even moreso, I hope,” Aaronev remarked as he turned from the painting. He beamed as he saw the ring on Agatha’s finger. “I see Tarvek’s asked for your hand in marriage. I am very, very well pleased to see you take him. The ring suits you well.”

Agatha blushed to see that he was sincere. 

Aaronev smiled as he shook their hands. “Once again, Agatha, welcome to the family. Now, while we can’t have an engagement party, we can at _least_ have cake, and a little music so you and Tarvek can dance.” 

Dinner was served, over which the conversation went over the topic of tithes and the state of travel, and various things that would have been mundane conversation in any royal household. Listening to them, Agatha learned quite a bit about the day to day minutiae of rule.

The cake was a two-tiered devil’s food, thickly slathered in a toasted meringue and decorated with a puff-pastry cornucopia pouring out marzipan fruit; a symbol of ripe harvests and fertility. It did not escape Tarvek that Aaronev’s choice of cake was one still considered by many of the Fifty Families as a delicious mild aphrodisiac, but Tarvek knew (having given in to wary curiosity) that at best the darker chocolates had a mild stimulating effect, similar to coffee. Agatha was given a healthy slice, and some of the marzipan decorations. Tarvek nibbled on an apple-shaped decoration before tucking into his slice. Aaronev was already halfway through a slice of his own before Anevka struck up a conversation.

“I found them in one of Tarvek’s labs, Father,” the Princess rolled her eyes at her brother. “You’d think he’d stop _playing_ with his dolls and pay more attention to his Lady instead,” She hid her smile behind her teacup, but her eyes were wicked. Tarvek slanted a narrow-eyed glare at her, but was relieved to see that Anevka’s insinuations were flying well over Agatha’s head.

“It’s good practice, isn’t it?” Aaronev asked. Tarvek and Agatha blinked at him in confusion. “Playing with dolls. At least, that’s what I was told.”

Everyone stared at him in puzzlement. “Whatever do you mean, Father?” Anevka asked, having been thrown off her teasing.

“I thought playing with dolls was meant to be practice for caring for children,” Aaronev explained. “It’s good that Tarvek wants to be a hands-on father.”

 _Oh Lord._ Tarvek reached over and sliced his father more cake. “These are modern times after all,” he said primly, deciding to latch on to his father’s misunderstanding, because of the two trains of thought, it was the more _wholesome_ one; a word Tarvek never thought he’d attribute to his father ever in his _lifetime_. “But I think that’s sometime in the future yet, Father.”

Agatha’s face had turned red at the mention of children. Tarvek suddenly recalled that he hadn’t given her advance warning and kicked himself. He reached discreetly for her hand under the table and squeezed her fingers in apology.

“Lucrezia had always wanted a daughter,” Aaronev mused, his eyes considering Agatha warmly. “She must have been very happy to have had you.”

“I… don’t know. I didn’t know her, I’m afraid. My earliest memories are travelling with Uncle Barry. Everyone thought she’d been taken by the Other.” Agatha’s eyes were far away for a moment, and then she looked at the Prince of Sturmhalten. “You knew my mother?”

“For a while, a long time ago,” Aaronev replied. 

“What was she like?”

Tarvek winced, but it was too late. Aaronev began a glittering description of Lucrezia Mongfish that Tarvek was almost certain existed _only_ in his father’s still-besotted mind, beginning with an _almost_ indiscreet physical description of her features, to waxing lyrical about her incredible mind, her oh so commanding voice, and Lucrezia’s brilliance and skill in the biological sciences. 

Before he was finished, Anevka had buried her face in her arms, and Agatha looked overwhelmed. However, she _had_ finished her cake, Tarvek noted with some amusement, having continuously placed tiny forkfuls into her mouth. There was a small dab of frosting to one side of her lip, and Tarvek used a fingertip to scrape it away. As Agatha blinked at him, Tarvek unthinkingly licked it off his finger.

Aaronev wound down, and noticed that Tarvek and Agatha were staring at each other. Tarvek had a slightly mischievous look in his eye, while Agatha was blushing. “But… forgive my wittering on. I have to say, it really does please me to see that you two are so attached to each other.” He rested his chin on top of his hand, smiling almost dreamily. “It’s like a fairy tale, finding each other like this, and then falling in love! You two are fated to be together.” He sighed happily. “Such perfection, before my very eyes.”

Tarvek spelled out ‘Sorry’ in Agatha’s palm before standing and pulling her to her feet. “Mm, yes. If I may, Father… I do believe Agatha and I _should_ get back to work. There’s plenty to do…”

Aaronev gave his son an indulgent look. “So I gather neither of you will be joining us for the after-dinner aperitif tonight?” He chortled at the reddened faces before him. “Go on. You’re _quite_ forgiven. I’ll send up the rest of the cake; it’ll make for a good snack between… study sessions.” He leaned back against his chair. “Ah, to be young and in love again…”

Tarvek managed to bow, before hustling Agatha away with a speed that was _just_ on the wrong side of proper. Even the servants they walked past couldn’t quite hide the knowing light that gleamed in their eyes, right before it was quickly hidden again. Tarvek pretended he couldn’t see them; nobles were supposed to treat their servants more or less like furniture after all. Since they _were_ aware of what was supposed to be going on, Tarvek decided he could use that. 

So as they walked back to his apartments, he kissed Agatha’s hand and nibbled the back of her fingers, his eyes hot with desire. Agatha responded to his cues, and took the lead, dragging Tarvek with her as they trotted, then hurried, finally running. She pushed him up against the door and kissed him hard, fumbling at the buttons of his waistcoat even as Tarvek managed to find the door handle and wrench the door open, causing them both to fall in, Agatha’s laughter echoing in the hallway as Tarvek kicked the door shut.

“Is that enough?” Agatha muttered against Tarvek’s neck.

“No, not yet,” he gasped, then moaned as Agatha bit his earlobe in response. “Don’t you want to _try_ make it to the bed?” he laughed.

“No,” Agatha grinned, as she sat on his belly and slid her hands under his waistcoat, which she had finally gotten open. She pushed back the waistcoat as if she were opening a much wanted present, and tugged at his shirt. Tarvek caught her by the wrists and gloating, rolled over so she was under him.

“Caught you, vixen! Now what _shall_ I do to you?”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Agatha shrank back and squealed with laughter when Tarvek laughed wickedly and started to tickle her. “No! Not fair!” She managed to get her hands free and retaliated, rolling him back under her. Then she fled to the bedroom door, pausing there to pose coquettishly for a moment, then slipping out of sight. 

Tarvek laughed as he chased after her, slamming the door behind him, then got beaned with a pillow. The chase and pillow fight around the room was starting to be fun when he caught her and tipped them both onto the bed, and kissed her breathless. After a moment or two, Tarvek pulled away and rolled onto his stomach.

“Dear God,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d ever have to reenact so many pfennig-sparkly clichés in my life, and yet here we are.” He let his face drop onto the mattress with a thump.

Agatha looked at him, and burst into laughter. “That _was_ quite the show, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Krosp said as he suddenly jumped onto the bed, startling them both. “You two have the servants and maids all a-twitter. Which, I reckon, is exactly what you wanted?”

Tarvek eyed the cat, who had unsubtly placed himself between Tarvek and Agatha. “What are they saying?”

“Well, the footmen are placing bets on how long it’ll be before Agatha gets pregnant, and the maids are complaining that you never took any chance to practice on them. The cooks are disappointed that it’s too late in the season for oysters.” Krosp sniffed as both Tarvek and Agatha turned bright, bright red. “But they’re all strangely happy to see _you_ happy.” A clawed ‘finger’ pointed at Tarvek, just a breath away from his nose. “There’s a betting pool to see if the first babe will have your hair, or _hers.”_

“That’s… good, I suppose.” Tarvek let out a breath and sat up. He started removing a surprising amount of parts and items from his pockets - both hidden and not. Agatha started doing the same, passing him the things until a mound of clank parts two hands high sat between them.

“So what did you want these for?” Agatha asked. She’d started swiping parts when she’d noticed him secreting things into his pockets and the folds of his clothes - and had been fairly sure he’d _allowed_ her to see him doing so.

“I promised I’d build you a death ray, didn’t I?” Already the skeleton frame of a small one was in Tarvek’s hands. “I’m afraid it will have to be a small one; we don’t really want massive holes in the walls. I’m good at hiding bodies, not structural damage, so it’ll have to be somewhat short-ranged.” His hands worked fast as he talked.

Krosp narrowed his eyes at him, noticing that Agatha was too excitedly watching him work to notice what the cat had.

“So you were saying earlier that you have Van Rijn’s notes?” Tarvek asked as he slotted in a series of small magnifying glasses, then sealed the tube.

“Yes. They were mostly about the work he did on the Muses. Maybe if you had a look… we can fix Tinka.” Agatha gently placed a hand on his wrist. “What happened to her wasn’t your fault, Tarvek.”

“My head agrees with you, my heart does not,” he replied as he covered the power source with the handle of the pistol-shaped death ray. “I thought it a harmless thing to allow to be known about me, since it is unusual for a Spark to not have some kind of focus or obsession. I never imagined that my wish to repair the Muses and restore them would result in my _having_ to do so because an intact Muse got damaged.”

“We’ll fix her. Krosp,” Agatha turned to look at the cat. “Do you think you can fetch the notebook for me?” 

“I could try, but it’ll be harder for me to sneak back undetected.”

“If you’re alright with waiting, I had planned to go back to the Circus in a couple of days, and check on them since they are officially my guests, and thus under my protection.” Tarvek snapped the last pieces in place. _“Done! Now to test it…”_ He flipped a safety switch he had built on the side, turned a dial, then pointed it at one of the larger empty spaces in his room. Pulling the trigger, the little pistol death ray hummed, and a bolt of blue light shot from it and dissipated roughly three metres away. _“There are two settings, stun and kill,”_ Tarvek showed the switch. He pointed to a red one on the other side. “This one simply turns on the thing. You have six shots on stun, three on kill, before it needs to recharge fully; but it will do that to replenish shots regardless.”

Then Tarvek placed it in his palms and offered it to Agatha, who shyly accepted it and turned it over in her hands.

Krosp’s tail swished. “I have observed plenty of Sparks, Sturmvoraus, but you are the first one I have ever watched that _wasn’t_ Sparking out while building something. You built that thing, and you didn’t Spark out until you were done.”

“It’s too dangerous for me to Spark out most of the time. Assassins watch for that. I’ve managed to control it but the _rush_ at the end…” Tarvek shivered with the thrill of it, smiling.

Agatha grinned at him. “It’s _wonderful_ , isn’t it?”

Tarvek’s answering grin had Krosp cringe back a little; it was _definitely_ Sparky, and something _else_.

“So… now what?” the cat asked, hoping it would divert the two Sparks. To his relief, it worked.

Tarvek looked at the clock on his bedside table. “Perhaps we could get ready for bed, then keep talking.” He pointed at the newly added armoire, chest of drawers, changing screen and mirrored dressing table occupying one corner of his room. “Everything there is for your use, I was told. Anevka gave you some clothes until I can have some of your own made.”

“She had a dressmaker take my measurements,” Agatha admitted, as she slid off the bed to peek into the drawers, startled to find a full complement of smallclothes, both of linen, satins and silks; petticoats, corsets, stockings and socks, and every single article of lingerie a girl could ever have wanted. There were nightgowns too, but… “I can’t wear this! I might as well be _naked!”_

Tarvek had also turned bright red, for he remembered how she looked in such a silky nothing. “I think I can find something that will do…” He went to his own chests of drawers and selected an undershirt and a set of comfortable thick cotton pajamas. “These might just fit.”

“Thanks. Sorry about this.”

“We’ll be staying in the same bed for a while, so I want you comfortable enough that you can sleep.” Tarvek looked apologetic. “Bad enough that you have to share the bed with me.”

Agatha looked at him, scowling. “You _will_ lie in bed, right? Properly? The way you slept sitting up wasn’t comfortable.” Her tone indicated that she would drag Tarvek into his own bed and tuck him in firmly to make sure he slept comfortably.

Tarvek held up his hands, as if to forestall her doing so. “Yes, of course. The bed is large enough that it should sleep us both comfortably and with room to spare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Tarvek more or less built Agatha a phaser. 
> 
> That will be it for the moment while I draw up Anevka, or some other art and figure out how to put it up here. I’ve got to write up more; and this is (surprise) the story I work on when I get stuck with the OTHER big Girl Genius fanfic project I’m working on - or whenever I feel sorry for Tarvek.
> 
> Happy Holidays to everyone!


	7. (Fanart) Anevka-neechan wa asobitai!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anevka: Little brother... you _proooooomised_ you'd come do _experiments_ with me!  
> *pouts*
> 
> Have a little doodle of the Sturmvoraus siblings having quality (?) time!

Anevka just wants her brother to hang out with [her in her lab!](https://shadow.affsdiary.com/ggfanstuff/sado_neechan_asobitai.png)

(if the image above doesn't work, right click the link, copy the link, paste in a new tab and hit enter and it should work. If that fails, [please click here](https://www.deviantart.com/cutelildrow/art/Anevka-Neechan-Asobitai-870511173).)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Line credit goes to [Lua_Aurelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lua_Aurelia)


	8. (Fanart) Tarvek's Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got bit by the shoujo-manga bug and this was the result. That, and I was trying out a brush and shading / colouring technique I haven't done before. Have a pretty doodley art as a belated Christmas pressie!

[Tarvek makes Agatha a promise.](https://shadow.affsdiary.com/ggfanstuff/mamoru_no_yakusoku.png)

If the image above doesn't work, right click the link, copy the link, paste in a new tab and hit enter and it should work; if not [click here](https://www.deviantart.com/cutelildrow/art/Tarvek-s-Promise-870511537). I apologise for the technical difficulties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a flower brush and didn't bother with the willpower roll.


	9. Chocolate, Clothes and Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarvek takes the time to give more of the history he knows with the alone time he’s bought.

Tarvek won the coin toss for the shower, and quickly took one. He came out dressed in his own set of pajamas, a fluffy bathrobe draped on his shoulders. Tarvek stoked the fire in the fireplace and eyed the heating system while Agatha took her turn. It was less elaborate because he’d had to take furniture into account but his rooms were at least comfortable. The cake arrived, along with a pot of rich hot chocolate, and marshmallows piped into the shape of little white ducks, and another bowl of fish for Krosp.

“What in the world is this?” Tarvek chuckled, as he poked at one of the marshmallow ducks with a fingertip. “I’m not a child any more.” Still, the small surprise made the young prince smile. At the sound of the door opening behind him, he turned. “Hey, Agatha, come and look at… this…”

It didn’t fit her completely, Tarvek’s pajamas. Fully buttoned, one pale shoulder still peeked from under the collar, and the undershirt stretched over the curve of her bosom. Agatha had the sleeves and pants legs rolled up, but even so her hands and feet peeped out from the loose fabric, making her look like a ragamuffin waif. Other than the hint of curves at the neck and shoulder lines, the clothes he’d given her obscured all of her femininity in enveloping folds of cloth, and yet the sight of her stunned Tarvek so all he could do for several moments was stare at her, his heartbeat having faltered. She stopped in front of him, towel turbanned on her head to help dry it, her skin pink from the hot water, and put on her glasses.

“You’re so beautiful,” Tarvek said softly, not even realising he’d spoken out loud. The rose-scented soap that had been given to her to use, mixed with the scent of her, began to warm his blood.

Agatha stared at his expression of wonder, and flushed. “...Sure. I always look good in clothes that _don’t_ fit me…”

“Yes you do,” Tarvek replied. “Always.”

His hand cupped her face, warm and gentle, and Agatha found herself gazing up at him with anticipation as Tarvek leaned forward. And saw the moment he remembered that he wasn’t her lover, and barely her friend at that. His kiss was still warm and tender, but his lips pressed against her brow instead of her own lips, leaving her tingling with wanting and feeling thwarted at the same time. Still, Tarvek did not step back from her, and instead seemed to be looking at her as if he were engraving the scene before him into his memory.

“Thank you.” Agatha whispered. She wanted more than that, but Tarvek was restraining himself for _her_ sake. She wanted to sigh and stopped herself from doing so. “You wanted to show me something?”

“Oh, uhm… yes.” Tarvek turned and indicated the plate of marshmallow ducks. “The kitchen sent us these to put in the hot chocolate. I haven’t seen them since I was a child.”

“They make them by hand? Oh they’re _cute!_ ”

“Aren’t they though? Here, I’ll pour you some chocolate so you can float some in your mug.”

Agatha floated four of the tiny white ducks and watched as they slowly dissolved into white froth before taking a sip. Tarvek had taken two, but eaten the marshmallow ducks in a gulp before they fully melted into the chocolate.

“I think marshmallows are safe for cats to eat,” Tarvek offered Krosp the plate as the cat climbed up on the table, having finished his bowl of fish. “Just not so sure about chocolate.”

Krosp fastidiously wiped his paws on a napkin and ate one. “Chewy,” he remarked. “Are we going to stay out here, or should we go back to the bedroom since you’re supposed to be in there?”

“We can wheel the cart in there and have a rug picnic in front of the fireplace,” Tarvek replied, and fit action to words. He also fetched some of the notes from his study, and a proper sketchpad with a set of pencils. 

The three of them settled on the intricately patterned Persian rug. “Before we start on studying the notes the Order of Jove has gathered about Castle Heterodyne, I must first explain why we even have those in the first place.” Tarvek said quietly. “Bear in mind, these plans are in place because nobody, and I mean _nobody_ knows you exist, as far as the rest of the world knows-” He nodded at Agatha, “-the House of Heterodyne is extinct with the death of your father, possibly your uncle, and… and your older brother, Klaus Barry Heterodyne.”

Agatha stared. “I _had_ a brother?”

“He died, as an infant, during the attack on Castle Heterodyne. I’m sorry to be the bearer of such tragic news.”

Agatha looked stricken. “How?”

“We don’t know, I am afraid. Lady Lucrezia, your mother, vanished that terrible day, and …” Tarvek looked apologetic. “Nobody knows how anyone, even the Other, was able to successfully attack and damage Castle Heterodyne.”

Agatha thought about it, vaguely sad for a brother who might have been, a brother whose life was cut short before it really began. _That_ made her sorrow enough that she took off her spectacles and wiped at her eyes.

“Agatha? I am very sorry.” Tarvek offered her the cloth he cleaned his glasses with.

“Not your fault. It just seems so unfair.” Agatha cleaned and put her glasses back on. “ _Klaus_ Barry, huh? Seems like my father was very good friends with the Baron.”

“They adventured a lot together, from what I hear. Not the pfennig-sparklies or the Heterodyne Plays, but from people who were alive when they were younger.” Tarvek paused to clean his own glasses. “The plays portray him in a way that does not resemble the Klaus I’ve heard of… or seen, for the matter. Regardless, it’s clear that your father regarded him highly enough to name his son after Baron Wulfenbach.”

Tarvek continued to talk, telling them about the plan the Order had come up with to have a fake Heterodyne ‘recognised’ by the broken Castle, and a Storm King heir conveniently discovered by a heraldic researcher some time later. 

“I thought it a _stupid_ idea. My own plans to seek legitimacy did not involve the Heterodynes, fake or otherwise.” Tarvek ran a hand through his hair, annoyed. “But you can see why my father is pushing hard to get us together in matrimony.”

“Do the whole thing _backwards_ , really.” Agatha matched his wry expression. “Any idea of when they planned to do this fake Heterodyne Girl plan?”

“They are far from ready, though they have a ‘Heterodyne Girl’, I heard.”

“Any idea _when_ they plan to do this?” Krosp peered at Tarvek intently.

“Considering that the plan was to marry me off to whoever they’ve picked, I would guess within a year or two at longest.” Tarvek sighed. “They want me young enough to sire enough children to ensure the bloodline, after all, since Mother was an only child, and I have no brothers…”

“Wait,” Agatha bristled. “You don’t even get a _choice_ on who your wife will be?!”

“Well, no.” Tarvek looked surprised at her vehement reaction. “Most of us… We’re destined for political marriages, or in my case, to continue Andronicus’ bloodline, so our spouse is picked for us unless we can present one who is suitable. If we’re lucky, we get along with our intended spouse. If not, well… as long as one is discreet and there are already heirs… affairs are not uncommon, not that _I_ would do that. A vow is a vow.” Tarvek shrugged, then smiled wistfully at her. “Agatha, until I met you, I never knew there could be any other option, or that I…” He trailed off, and shook his head. “For that, at least, I am grateful that you and I met. I at least know now what it’s like to give my heart, and by sheer good fortune, it is to someone wonderful, brilliant and kind.”

Agatha stared at him, hurt and furious for Tarvek’s sake. “You’re… you’re not some _prize stud stallion_ to be passed around to willing brood mares!”

“There _has_ been concern that I haven’t lain with a woman, never mind sired a few summer children,” Tarvek laughed, catching Agatha’s hands in his own. “You are angry. Why does that make me feel warm inside?”

“You deserve better,” Agatha insisted.

Tarvek’s smile was gentle and bittersweet. “Perhaps. But at least now, I can try and earn some happiness.”

They talked for only a little while longer after that, then decided to go to sleep, seeing as they would be awake early. Tarvek’s bed was so large that Agatha could have comfortably sprawled and not touched him. Krosp settled himself between them anyway.

Despite that arrangement, Tarvek half-woke in the dark of night, as Agatha, still asleep, burrowed into his side, and settled deeper into slumber.

Krosp watched, fairly sure the young Prince was dreaming, as Tarvek gently arranged them so that Agatha’s head was comfortably pillowed on his shoulder. With his arm loosely wrapped around her and his nose buried in her hair, Tarvek closed his eyes and sank back into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, Agatha is a cuddle bug. When I was much younger, my father explained a scene in a movie we were watching that sometimes, sleeping with a woman without making love to her is far more intimate. Given the romance and the situation of the scene I understood it then; but have gained a personal understanding of it since.


	10. Mischief, Music and Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agatha has Tarvek start the day the way she normally would. 
> 
> This chapter has music linked, for the best experience.

The servants of Sturmhalten had never seen such a sight, and given they served a family of Sparks, that was saying _something_. But the sight of the young Master and his intended bride-to-be and her cat tearing up and down the fortress, clad in his undershirts and pajama bottoms was unusual enough to make them stop in their tasks and stare, or at least get out of their way. Princess Anevka viewed this with the disgust of someone who wasn’t used to waking up before nine in the morning, and Prince Aaronev could only gape in astonishment as Tarvek and Agatha sprinted down the hallway with a cheerful _good morning!_ called as they darted past, then proceeded to tear down the stairway, five steps at each leap.

“What was _that_ all about?” the confused ruler of Sturmhalten asked, when the two, much more presentably dressed, came down to breakfast two and a half hours later.

“I do this every day,” Agatha replied, as Tarvek tucked into a slightly heftier breakfast than he normally had beside her. “It’s very good exercise; and Tarvek thought he could keep up with me.” She slanted a mischievous glance at him.

“Give me a week, and I will,” Tarvek replied. He _did_ keep fit, but Agatha had started leaving him behind in the last half hour before they stopped. He was rather nettled by that fact.

“You mean to tell me, Brother,” Anevka grumbled, “that you’ll both be doing this from _now on?_ ”

“Well, yes. Why not?” Tarvek blinked at her. “We’ll have to find something to replace the small anvil that Agatha sometimes carries, but it really _is_ good exercise.”

“Anvil.” Anevka let the word drop like one.

“Yep. It’s so if we have to run from something in the Wastelands, we can carry as much as possible with us and get away,” Agatha explained.

“But you’re not going to be doing any running away from rogue clanks of mass destruction _here!”_

Aaronev started to laugh. “It _is good_ exercise,” he allowed. “Alright. But can you two keep it away from our wings, so we can sleep?” He then peered at his son over the tops of his glasses. “And perhaps in proper exercise attire.”

“Of course, Father. Agatha’s going to sketch the proper exercise outfit she wears, so I can make one or something similar for myself.”

At that, Agatha’s face suddenly blushed furiously red. “Uh… maybe wait until you get my clothes from the wagon. Then you’ll want to rethink that idea, Tarvek.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Anevka leaned forward. “You have my attention, Agatha. What _does_ it look like? Is it tightly form-fitting, like a fencing uniform?”

“Uhm, no. Not...really, I guess. Except where it has to be.” Agatha frowned. “It’s a Skifandrian training outfit, and it wraps around and is tied on, a bit like a robe, except it is very short, and sleeveless.”

“Really? How short are we talking about?” Anevka asked, following her question with a forkful of scrambled eggs.

 _Uh oh,_ Tarvek thought, seeing the way his sister’s eyes lit up. That usually meant he was about to be asked to help haul innards out of her lab and would end up doing _most_ of it.

“It covers the, ah, most necessary.” Agatha flushed. She glanced at Prince Aaronev and saw he was busy speaking to his butler.

Anevka saw her father’s distraction and put on her most innocent expression. “Wouldn’t that mean that a suitably male version of such only be a loincloth outfit of some sort?”

Agatha pictured it. She couldn’t _help_ but imagine Tarvek in such a thing now that Anevka had pointed it out. Apparently this was the case with Tarvek himself as well, because _he_ flushed as much as Agatha felt she was blushing.

“A _nev_ ka!” Tarvek hissed.

Agatha scrambled for a way to salvage the situation. “Uhm, the Skifanderian people are a matriarchy so maybe there _isn’t_ a male version of the outfit after all?”

“So Tarvek would have to do the morning training as the _Spartans_ used to?” Anevka’s eyes were huge. “That’s _dedication_ , Brother.” She hid her wicked smile behind her teacup as Agatha choked. “But perhaps for the delicate sensibilities of our female household staff you may need to sacrifice authenticity for practicality and at least have something that covers your hips and, ah, _fundament_.”

Tarvek decided he would not dignify that with a response and focused on clearing his plate. 

Aaronev, who had long ago developed the habit of tuning out his children as soon as they started discussing clothes, turned back to find Tarvek’s ears still pink, Agatha’s cheeks still rosy as she nibbled on a breakfast sausage, and Anevka daintily finishing the last of her breakfast potatoes.

“Did I miss something?”

“No, Father,” Anevka replied serenely. “Nothing important, anyway.”

⚙

“I think I ate a little too much,” Tarvek complained, as they walked through the halls again. “I know I had more than I’m used to.”

“Well, you’re not used to that, as you say,” Agatha replied. “Or the exercise. You’ll be stiff tomorrow if we don’t get some liniment.”

“I make a very good liniment,” Tarvek said. “It’s rather spicy though. I’ll show you the formula later. I just kind of want to sit for a bit and let my stomach settle.”

As he said that, they came to the parlour with the spinet. Agatha brightened. “Well, I can play for you now then, if you like.” She looked at the instrument with longing.

“I would love to hear you play.” Tarvek gestured at a tall shelf. “We have plenty of sheet music, and maybe later I can accompany you on the violin.”

“Oh, I would love that,” Agatha said. “Your violin isn’t here?”

“I keep it in my rooms,” Tarvek replied, an apologetic smile curving his lips. “I sometimes play when the mood strikes me. Just idle twiddles, nothing grand in the terms of composition, but the ones that I do like I end up writing down.”

Her heart beat a little faster at the thought of them playing music together. Shy and self-deprecating as he was of his own compositions, she hoped he would play them for her anyway. Agatha selected _The Nutcracker_ and paged to the _Waltz of the Flowers._ “It’s been a while,” she admitted as she sat down on the bench. 

Tarvek listened to her, and wondered what she was worried about. It was clear that the waltz was but a warm-up, for she segued from the piece into Vivaldi’s _Summer_ , then followed it up with Liszt’s _La Campanella._ Then with a cheeky grin, Agatha began to play _In the Hall of the Mountain King_. Tarvek’s laughter made for an interesting counterpoint to the piece.

“Tease!” Tarvek sat down next to her as she finished with a flourish. “And I am definitely looking forward to playing with _you_ later.”

Agatha blushed at his insinuating smile, and wished for a moment he was serious as warmth curled low in her belly. But Tarvek [ let his long fingers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3KJ7agW3rc) drift over the keys, caressing music from the spinet the way he would have liked to caress her, it seemed. The notes were soft, and romantic, and made her feel like that soft kiss had made her feel. Her lips tingled at the memory, and her body felt warm recalling how it had felt to be embraced by him, to be simply held and cherished.

Agatha wanted that again, as she listened to Tarvek play the slow, drifting, dreamy romantic piece. She didn’t recognise it; but it made her wish she could stop time and stay with him forever in that parlour, with nothing to concern them both but the joy of the music they created.

But no music lasts forever, and wistfully, Tarvek’s fingers began to drift to the final notes, which faded away into silence. After several moments, Agatha looked up at him. “Did you compose that yourself?”

Tarvek did not look at her, holding himself too still. “Yes. Just now.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“So are you,” Tarvek murmured, almost too quietly for her to hear.

Her cheeks pinked. “You were thinking of me while making that?”

“‘So are you to my thoughts as food to life,’ Agatha.” Tarvek’s smile was shy as he finally looked at her. But his eyes were warm and playful.

 _Oho, so Shakespeare now, is it?_ “‘If music be the food of love, play on…’ sweet Prince.”

“As my Lady commands,” Tarvek would have turned back to the spinet, but he found himself unable to pull away from Agatha’s gaze. If he bent his head, just a little, he could have kissed her, but he held still, waiting, for in such a courtship, the woman led the dance.

“If I kiss you, you stop talking… and cannot play.” Agatha’s eyes danced with sudden mischief.

“A dilemma to be sure,” Tarvek teased back. “May I propose that you kiss me either before or after?”

“I propose that I kiss you both before _and_ after,” Agatha’s blush showed she was quite unused to the teasing. She found she liked it when they could flirt like this, as long as she could forget that there were people around - the servants were ubiquitous as they were plentiful, and Agatha knew there were Smoke Knights, unseen by her.

“You drive a hard bargain, my Lady.” Tarvek’s eyes danced with delight.

“If so, why aren’t you kissing me-” Tarvek smiled into the kiss, and after a moment, so did she. It was a long while before they pulled apart enough to end the kiss. Slowly, as if reluctant to let her go, Tarvek placed his hands back upon the spinet’s keys, and began to [ play once more ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0GQxLWlzyQ) , the song the quiet joy of finding the one who completes the missing pieces of one’s heart. When Tarvek finished that piece, Agatha glanced at him, to see if he would kiss her then, but Tarvek started playing [ another distinct piece ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pDQ4ImXmRM), very different from the previous one. Unlike the first two, which were soft, tender and sweet, this one seemed to declare feelings of love more passionately, while somehow being wistful and longing at the same time.

[ The fourth piece ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tUlXUTzAeew) Tarvek played made Agatha wonder if it was his emotions he was portraying, or _hers_ ; the chords bringing to mind the way his voice could stir that wonderful tingling feeling in her, making her alert to his presence, the way that a strong breeze out of nowhere would make one look toward the sky in anticipation. As the music lifted Agatha recalled how she would hold still and meet his gaze, how his smile made her heart race… and then how he would pull back, as if unsure again of his welcome. But even so the air would seem to swirl and come alive between them, even if he wasn’t touching her, hinting of the whirlwind of feelings and potential that was just barely held back-

Tarvek lifted his hands from the keys, ending the thundering thrum of sound abruptly. When his hand reached toward the keys again, Agatha caught his fingers, making him look at her as she broke his concentration. 

_There,_ she thought. That _something_ in his eyes, in his expression, that made her think _Storm King_ , not shy Prince, yet still _Tarvek_ \- 

Then Tarvek was kissing her, lips moving like sweet lightning against hers, holding Agatha against him as if he would never stop kissing her, and that if he could hold her in her arms forever, he would. Swept away by the intensity of the feelings he roused, Agatha shuddered involuntarily, her fingers knotting into the lapels of his waistcoat as if she could hold herself steady and grounded that way, even as she began to melt against him.

But feeling her tremble in his embrace, Tarvek lifted his head, breaking the kiss, eyes dark beneath his lashes. Agatha could feel his heart racing under her hand, racing like her own. _No,_ she thought then, as he held himself again in that too-still way. _Don’t pull away, don’t stop, not yet-_

Tarvek straightened and pulled away as they both heard the sharp _clack-clack-clack_ of heels on the hallway floor. Agatha turned as Anevka peeked from the doorframe, a smile of delight on her face, a torso-hugging labcoat worn over her dress, and a bloody scalpel in her hand.

“Ooh, did I _miss_ it?” the Princess asked, delight melting to disappointment. “That was _Tarvek_ playing just now, wasn’t it? He comes up with such _wonderful_ evocative pieces the rare times he does compose, but you have to catch him in the mood for it.” She pouted a little as she draped herself on her brother, her chin resting on his head. “But then he gets _shy_ about his music. When I hear his music from my lab, even if I run across the palace at a dead run he’s finished by the time I get here.”

Tarvek carefully pushed her wrist so her scalpel wouldn’t drip on his clothes. In response his sister rolled her eyes and dropped it into her coat pocket.

Agatha looked at the two siblings, wistfully, as Anevka hugged Tarvek. _Okay, she sort of looks like she’s half strangling him, but it does manage to look rather sweet anyway. I wonder if I would have had something like this, if my elder brother had lived?_

“Oh _please,_ Brother dearest; don’t I deserve some kind of _reward_ for hurrying over to listen to your beautiful compositions?” She rubbed her chin on his head.

Tarvek’s response was muffled by her arms, which were wrapped around his face and neck. He reached out and played a huffy little ditty.

“That sounded almost _rude_ ,” Anevka scolded, as she unwrapped her arms from around him so she could put her hands on her hips.

“I _said_ , I _can’t_ play if I can’t breathe, Sister dearest.” Tarvek tipped his head back so he could look up at her, expression grumpy, but his eyes were warm. “If you promise not to muss me again, I’ll play a piece. Just _one_ though, because we really should get back to those reports.” Fussily, he started straightening his hair, cravat and jacket.

“Delightful boy,” Anevka grinned at Agatha. Having gotten what she wanted, Anevka settled against the side of the spinet.

Tarvek looked at Agatha. “I’m afraid for the kind of music that Anevka likes to hear from me, I will need to stand.”

Agatha blinked, but stood and watched as Tarvek put the bench to one side. As she moved to the other side of the spinet, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let his fingertips rest on the keys.

[ The piece began quietly, ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOxBqUwGUQQ) but ponderously, but the expression on Tarvek’s face indicated that the quiet was deceptive, like the calm before a storm. The faint echoing melody melted away to a staccato, tapped on-the-keys rhythm that Agatha felt should have been played by some drums - which was why when Tarvek started playing a repeating, oddly compelling series of rhythmic chords it seemed to slip into her consciousness with some surprise. The music _pulled_ at Agatha’s senses, differently from the previous pieces he’d played for her. 

_No,_ Agatha realised. There was something oddly _familiar_ about the way the repeating chords of music tugged at her mind. When his eyes flicked up at her, Agatha felt a bolt of lightning and recognition, even as she matched the sudden wild grin that split his face as the notes became discordant, yet _still in tune._

It was like descending into a _Spark fugue._

Tarvek had captured the thrill and absorption of how the mind spiralled into the joy of intellect and theory and made thought _real_ and had made it into _music_. Reality had no recourse but to _bend_ to their will, their desire to shape thought into form, shaped discordant chaos into song. As Tarvek’s one hand hammered rhythmically down upon the keys, the other evoked the soaring _thrill_ of _creation and invention_ , as pieces of the scientific puzzle fell into place. It electrified her - and glancing at Anevka, Agatha knew she _wasn’t_ alone in that feeling - she wanted to laugh ecstatically at the madness that she _never_ had thought she could share like _this!_ Did Tarvek laugh as she wanted to? Agatha wasn’t sure, but she grinned at the predator’s excited light that shone from both his and Anevka’s eyes, her heart racing as her emotions _soared,_ vibrated with the discordant notes, then were conducted like the sweetest lightning to harmonious heights once again. 

The three young Sparks all had the same dangerous gleam in their eyes, the same smiles, as the music came to a thundering, cresting finish - all too sudden, all too soon, like the completion of a project and the switch having been thrown.

Anevka shivered in delight, and grinned at them both. She clapped her brother on the shoulder in thanks as she strode past, and was gone, hurrying back to her lab.

Tarvek turned to Agatha, his breathing harsh in his throat, then held still as he discovered that Agatha was just in front of him, her half-lidded eyes shining with need. She reached for him, then stopped, as if suddenly unsure of what she wanted to do with her hand. She brushed her fingertips over the breast of his waistcoat, and Tarvek trembled, thrilled by her touch.

“You’re not bringing me back to your study, your Majesty,” Agatha murmured, leaning in closely, so only he could hear. As his eyes widened, a smile of excitement curved her lips and her voice became _vibrant_ with the Spark. _“Take me to your labs._ **_Now.”_**

Tarvek matched her smile and joined her in the Madness Place. **_“As my Lady desires,”_ ** he crooned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music listened to /imagined Tarvek playing while writing up the scene with Tarvek playing music: Whispers in the Dark by Yanni; The Velocity of Love - Suzanne Ciani; Beyond Love - Ivan Torrent; and Polaris - End of Silence. For Anevka: Insomnia (Faithless cover) by 2wei
> 
> It was very difficult for me to find a piece that I thought Anevka would enjoy, but then I landed on Insomnia and found myself pulled into the music, resurfaced and looked at what I had written, and spent the next hour or two rather compelled by the imagery in my head.


	11. Dances, Dingbots and Dumb Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarvek’s music results in inspiration, and Krosp finds out something the hard way.

Servants who worked within a Spark household learned very quickly when to get out of their employers’ way or end up participating in their experiments, voluntarily or not. The mad grins on Tarvek and Agatha’s faces as they ran through the hallways hand in hand were more than sufficient warning, and the word spread quickly through the household staff. Neither young Spark noticed how empty the halls had become, only that there was no obstruction from the spinet room to the lab where Tarvek kept Tinka - all the better to get to the experiment faster!

 _“I’ve figured out what may be the problem with Tinka’s ability to keep her balance,”_ Agatha said. _“Tactile feedback errors!”_

Tarvek’s eyes widened as they both burst through his lab doors. “That… _That’s brilliant! I’ve been so focused on repairing the physical damage and making sure I don’t make mistakes-”_ He shook his head. _“It seems that I made one anyway.”_

 _“But Tarvek,”_ Agatha tugged him around so she could look into his eyes. _“It was your music that gave me the answer.”_

He looked intrigued. _“How so?”_

_“The discordant chords that sounded somehow like music still, in your piece made me think of it. Like how you can stroke a finger over velvet one way and it will feel smooth, and then you stroke it the other way, and it feels rough. Or, how sometimes one can mis-step because your eyes think there’s a step down, and there isn’t? What Tinka’s mechanical brain receives and what her sensory inputs are sending aren’t matching up - but only some of the time! Hers would be so incredibly, incredibly complex, for dancing-”_

_“Or perhaps, there may be some delay in transmission and reception?”_ Tarvek suggested.

 _“An intriguing, similarly valid possibility,”_ Agatha’s eyes widened. _“Perhaps even the data she receives in the end may be corrupted periodically by whatever is failing to function as it should. Indeed, it may be all of the above! She is such beautiful, delicate work, it is possible! Not to say that you haven’t done exemplary work in repairing her, Tarvek, it’s just that-”_

 _“No, not at all! I am not Van Rijn.”_ Tarvek grinned and waved it aside.

“But you _are_ an incredible musician,” Agatha said, slipping out of her fugue. “That was _amazing_. All of it. Especially the last piece. I didn’t know you could _do_ that with a spinet.”

“I’m glad you like my music.” Tarvek smiled shyly. “I hear the newest grand pianos are even more versatile in their range of sound. But even what I’ve played, especially the one I did for Anevka, pales to what I hear in my mind. I am merely a competent musician.”

“I’ve never heard anyone render the emotions of a fugue state into music before,” Agatha insisted. “Yes, the music you make are _not_ pure classical forms… but you were able to _sink_ me into the emotions you wanted to evoke.” She wrapped her arms around herself, smiling. “Oh, I can’t wait to play _with_ you later. I want to hear what you do on the violin! It’s only recently as well, that I’ve been able to really _make music_ … my mind...” She faltered at the memory.

Tarvek reached out and brushed the back of a finger against her cheek. “Shh. Don’t think of it now.” He placed his arm around her shoulders and guided her towards the workbench. “Show me, Agatha,” he urged. “Show me what my music has uncovered.”

Agatha smiled as she turned towards the tools. Selecting one of the practice legs that Tarvek had made, she placed it on the table and opened the casing. Tarvek soon found himself happily joining Agatha in fugue, his attention both on the mechanical problem they were working on, and the woman as she hummed that odd atonal fascinating sound. He was absolutely entranced by her mind as she worked, and seeing her so happy as they examined Tinka, used touch and the Muse’s verbal feedback to diagnose and test the problem and its subsequent solution on a half-built clank, made him wish that they could stay in the lab forever. _Here_ , none of his father’s machinations and plans, nor the threat of the Baron and his son, nor even the looming issue of reclaiming Castle Heterodyne mattered. 

As Tarvek helped Agatha build her little helper clanks - her dingbots, as she called them - then worked with her and the little automata to carefully, oh so _carefully_ open up Tinka’s legs, then rework the wiring, pressure pads, and sensors, he hoped that this would work, for Tinka’s sake, and Agatha’s own. The awareness that neither of them were Van Rijn despite their own respective brilliance had fear tearing at the edge of Tarvek’s consciousness, which he resolutely ignored. 

But soft whispering voices filtered through his mind - for Tarvek’s fugue was not quite the same as Agatha’s. A lifetime of having to be on guard and aware ensured that Tarvek almost never was completely unaware of his surroundings; a tiny part of him stayed alert, and that tiny part kept looking back at the knowledge of what Barry Heterodyne had done to his niece and analyzed the circumstances again and again. Resolutely, Tarvek turned his attention to the work at hand; delicate as it was, he could not afford to divide his attention or concentration.

 ** _“There! DONE!”_** Agatha declared. She bent to look at the prone Muse as Tarvek closed up Tinka’s back; he’d done the work as Agatha instructed him, simply because he had longer fingers and was more familiar with Tinka’s internal workings. Agatha lifted the dress Tarvek had had a servant bring for Tinka, and helped the Muse get dressed as Tarvek ran Tinka through a diagnostic cycle. Then with great care and ready to catch her if she fell, the two Sparks helped the Muse of the Dance to her feet.

Tinka stood on her own, steadily. Then she gracefully curtseyed - and just as beautifully, straightened once again. Hesitantly, she stood _en pointe_ and wobbled, so she lowered herself back down to a normal standing position. When she walked, it was with a slight limp, but she _walked._

“T-ttt-thank you…! Your Mmmajesty… luh-Lady Agatha!” Tinka’s smile was infectious. She curtseyed again - and once more, did not fall. It was a great improvement.

With a whoop of glee, Tarvek caught Agatha up by the waist and spun her around the room in a dance of happiness. “You! Are! _Wonderful!”_

Laughing, Agatha braced herself by putting her hands on his shoulders. “So are you.” Tarvek gazed at her as he slowly let her body slide down his, until she was back on her feet again. For a moment it seemed like he would kiss her, his eyes as warm and dark as they’d been when he’d kissed her in the parlour. Agatha gazed up at him, hoping that he would.

Instead, Tarvek embraced her tightly. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you so much.”

Gently, Agatha reached up and touched his cheek. “We’ll fix her. Tinka _will_ dance again.”

Tarvek kissed the top of her head, then leaned back to smile at her. “Of course she will. With a lovely genius like you on the case, and my own skills? We’ll find the Muses and repair them _all.”_

⚙

“So, as you can see here, these sections are marked as too dangerous to enter, while these are active but have been repaired.” Tarvek indicated carefully lined areas on the map spread in front of them. 

Agatha frowned. “And they’ve been working on these repairs for fifteen years?”

“Yes,” Tarvek shook his head. “It’s a bit of a gamble each time a group gets press-ganged.” He reached for his mug and frowned when he found it empty.

Agatha got up. “I’ll make us some tea and ring for some sandwiches?” She looked at the time, noting that it was past noon.

“Sandwiches sound grand,” Tarvek agreed. “I’ll find the notes for this chamber while you do that.” He tapped a section marked in red.

As he reached for the stack of notes, Agatha slipped out into the drawing room. Krosp was outside, on the balcony, eating, and barely glanced up at her. Agatha busied herself with her tasks and requested a servant to bring them lunch - something she still wasn’t used to. It was certainly convenient, but when she realised that there were servants stationed outside Tarvek’s rooms, waiting for his and her every need, she could see why outside of the bedroom, Tarvek would resume his mask - the bedroom was the room furthest away from the doors. _Ugh. That means he’s practically_ never _alone. I’m really surprised that Tarvek can keep secrets the way he has been doing._

Agatha brought in the tray, and was briefly alarmed to find Tarvek slumped on top of the map, but the soft snore that came out of him made her giggle. _I shouldn’t laugh. He didn’t sleep much the night I arrived and he woke up earlier than he’s used to this morning._

Agatha put the tray down on top of a side table, poured herself some tea, and settled into her own chair. She picked up her notes, but found herself staring at Tarvek’s sleeping face, smiling. His pince-nez was slightly askew from where his cheek pressed into his forearm, and Agatha found herself gently brushing away his hair from his eyes, so she could see him better. _He really is very cute,_ Agatha thought. _That kiss in the spinet parlour… was that just an act? Tarvek… seemed more like his real self that he lets me see._ She blushed, thinking about it, and remembering how she’d woken up snuggled into his arms, her own wrapped around him as if he were a pillow. _Well, I_ was _treating him like a pillow,_ Agatha thought to herself wryly. _I hope that kiss wasn’t an act_. 

Well and truly distracted, Agatha gazed at Tarvek’s lips, which were slightly parted. She admitted to herself she liked it when he kissed her - liked it a _lot_ . _At least he’s letting me figure it out for myself. He isn’t pushing and trying to be as gentle with my feelings as he can, given the situation, but… Tarvek’s being as sweet as he can be. And it is wonderful to be able to Spark out with him. When we get Van Rijn’s notes, it will help with repairing Tinka._ A grin curved Agatha’s lips as she imagined Tarvek’s excitement with the notes.

She brushed her fingers over his hair, marvelling at how soft it was. _I’ll let him have twenty more minutes. He’ll feel better after a nap._

Agatha’s thoughts were interrupted by Krosp’s landing next to her elbow. 

“What is he doing?” the white cat asked, frowning. “He’s supposed to be teaching you, not napping.”

Before Agatha could stop him, Krosp reached out and poked a claw at Tarvek’s nose.

The effect was instantaneous and terrifying. Tarvek grabbed Krosp and flung him away as hard as he could, before his eyes were even open. In the same movement he threw himself off the table and ended up crouched on the floor, a dagger in each hand. His eyes scoured the room, then focused on the puffed up cat clinging to the curtains by the window.

 _“You stupid cat, I_ **_could have killed you! I thought that was an assassin’s dart!”_ ** Tarvek snarled. **_“Never do that again! Or I will skin you and turn you into a hat!”_ ** He strode over, plucked Krosp from the curtains and growled. Tarvek dropped him on the table then shakily braced himself against it, adrenaline pumping through him. At some point the daggers in his hands had vanished back into their hiding places - something that the cat was shaken to have completely missed. 

Agatha scowled at Krosp, who had fled to stand on her shoulders, fur puffed. “You deserved that scare,” she scolded.

“I don’t fall asleep unless I feel _safe,”_ Tarvek hissed. “You _better_ hope that I haven’t placed you into the ‘danger’ category, your _Majesty,_ or you can forget staying in my rooms at night!”

Krosp, his ears flat against his skull, bowed contritely. “I beg your forgiveness, your Majesty.”

Tarvek glared at him, pinching the tip of his nose. Then he nodded sharply. “I need some fresh air,” he muttered, then strode out of the study.

Agatha glared at the cat. “That was completely unnecessary, you know.”

“I won’t do it again,” Krosp promised, thoroughly cowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be rather busy this week so the next chapter may be late. Apologies in advance!


	12. (Fanart) Space Invader

As big as Tarvek's bed is, [Agatha likes to scoot over to his side and use him as a pillow](https://shadow.affsdiary.com/ggfanstuff/cuddlebug.png) \- not that he minds!

This is sort to make up for my likely being late with the next actual story chapter. RL busy, I'm afraid.

If the image above doesn't work, right click the link, copy the link, paste in a new tab and hit enter and it should work; otherwise, please [click here](https://www.deviantart.com/cutelildrow/art/Space-Invader-870512145). I apologise for the technical difficulties.


	13. Ruminations, Regrets and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad choices result in bad timing for others. Tarvek and Agatha talk about family and friends.

Tarvek strode out to the balcony and took a deep breath of the cool, crisp mountain air. _Damn that cat,_ he thought. Still, he was shaken. Tarvek couldn’t remember falling asleep. That was even more dangerous than the jab he’d gotten. He sighed and rubbed his chin. _On the other hand, thanks to that rude awakening, I am very, very alert now._

Tarvek turned and smiled, startling the assassin who had just slipped down from the palace wall. “I can also work out a little aggravation.”

Without understanding what the young Prince meant, the assassin died, Tarvek’s dagger appearing from seemingly out of nowhere between her eyes. Tarvek filched the stiletto she had been holding. He jabbed it into the curtains and sidestepped the body, ignoring the horrible gurgling as the second would-be killer drowned in his own blood.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Tarvek said, smiling as he walked into the centre of the drawing room.

Two more figures, swathed in black and purple appeared. “I thought you said he was a useless _fop,”_ one of them complained.

“I’m delighted that you think so.” Tarvek grinned, which only served to unnerve the Smoke Knights. “Unfortunately, you were _supposed_ to think that.” He suddenly was behind the one who had complained, dagger jabbing down into the jugular.

There was a shrill hum, and the last assassin fell with a strangled gasp, revealing Agatha and Krosp standing behind him, the tiny death ray in Agatha’s hand. “Are you alright, Tarvek?”

Tarvek’s eyes went from the corpse to her and back again. _She shot him for my sake!_

The smile he gave her was brilliant with delight. “I am perfectly fine, my darling Agatha.” He let the body he held quietly slump to the floor. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, but thank you for helping.”

Agatha frowned at the bodies. “I thought I would feel more upset… but I am not. Instead, I am glad to have kept him from killing you.”

Tarvek sobered immediately. “That was…” He hesitated, then decided to rephrase. “You’ve never killed before.”

“Not another person, no.” Agatha looked up at him. “I was _protecting you._ That’s more important to me.”

Tarvek stepped around the bodies and took her hands in his. “Then don’t forget that. _Never_ forget that. You are destined to rule, Agatha. We don’t have the luxury of keeping our hands unbloodied the way the common folk can. We bear the burden of lives, and sometimes, that means paying with lives - either that of our enemies… or those of our soldiers. That is part of the duty we have to those we rule and the people we protect.”

  
  


⚙

  
  


“I meant to ask you this earlier, but… why do you loot the bodies before you dispose of them?” Agatha asked as she polished off her sandwich. They were back in the study, having disposed of the bodies and removed any evidence of a fight. Tarvek was sorting and cataloguing his latest collection while holding the last of his sandwich -dark _schwarzbrot_ layered with prosciutto ham, gruyere cheese, eggs and some early summer salad greens - in one hand.

“Well, you heard them earlier, right? Describing me as ‘a useless fop.’ That’s _deliberately_ done on my part, because if people who wish me dead think of me as helpless prey, then they don’t send someone _really_ skilled to slit my throat. Of course, that’s no excuse for me to slack off my _own_ training, but I’ve avoided having to fight, say, Martellus’ chief assassin, Night Master Jaron.

“I made a point of visibly failing all the tests and being useless in a fight, so I don’t really get supplies. This is how I build up my own armory. When one of my cousins tried to teach me how to fence, I made sure to be lousy at it too.” Tarvek’s smile was fond. “She persevered so much though I showed I learned _something._ ”

Agatha looked at his face, surprised. “I’ve never heard you talk about your relatives before.”

“Well, I haven’t seen Cousin Zulenna for years. She’s on Castle Wulfenbach _-oh!_ That’s right! Did you meet her?” Tarvek asked, before finishing his meal.

“She…” Agatha hesitated. “She didn’t like me very much, because I was a commoner, and everyone thought I was just Moloch’s doxy.”

“Ahahaha…” Tarvek adjusted his pince-nez, embarrassed. “Zulenna’s not a Spark, and Sparks are very important to the nobility now.” He suddenly looked uncomfortable again, as if an awful thought had just occurred to him. “...Was she well?”

“You like her, don’t you?” 

“She was always nice to me, even when others were not,” Tarvek replied. “But you avoided answering my question,” he continued quietly. “Something happened to her.”

“...I don’t know. She… she stayed behind to delay pursuit. Theo - apparently he’s my cousin too, Theo DuMedd… got me out.”

Tarvek closed his eyes and nodded. “That sounds like Zulenna.” He leaned back and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I… I had hoped to keep her safe there, so I pulled a lot of dirty, filthy tricks to get her sent to Castle Wulfenbach.” For a moment, his eyes seemed to be bright with tears. Then he blinked and looked at Agatha. “Don’t worry. I _will_ protect you. No matter the cost.”

Agatha reached across the desk and held his hand. “Maybe she’s alright. As scary as Von Pinn is… she seemed to _really_ care for the children. I don’t think Von Pinn would have hurt her.”

“...Maybe you’re right.” Tarvek clasped his fingers around hers, then raised her fingers to his lips. “Thank you. I feel more at ease.”

Agatha stared at him, wishing she could, in fact, tell him his Cousin Zulenna was safe. But how could she, when she had no idea if Zulenna was safe? “Do you want to take a break?”

Tarvek considered the pile of files and reports they’d gone through. “That seems like a good idea. Tea? The pot from earlier’s gone cold.”

“I’ll make it. I’ll meet you out the balcony?”

“Sure. I will put these away, and join you shortly.” Tarvek picked up the box of weapons and vials, smiled at her, and vanished.

Krosp scowled. “I’ve been watching him closely the last three times he did that, and I can’t pick out how he does it.”

“Well, it’s not magic, that’s for sure,” Agatha said as the two of them left the study in a more conventional manner. 

“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

“You also hate knowing that he could sneak up on you, don’t you?”

“I’m a _cat!_ How can he be _sneakier than me?!”_ Krosp hissed and fluffed. “Then again, Tarvek _thinks_ like a cat, so I suppose I shouldn’t be _too_ upset.”

  
  


⚙

  
  


Tarvek returned to find Agatha leaning against the balustrade, looking toward the town, idly rubbing Krosp’s head with her fingertips. The setting sun turned her hair into golden fire, and for several moments, Tarvek gazed at her, struck by her beauty. Then she noticed him standing there and smiled.

 _She doesn’t belong here,_ Tarvek thought. _Not here, in cold, stifling Sturmhalten. She should be free from this gilded cage._

“I was just thinking of how beautiful a view you have here,” Agatha exclaimed, gesturing out towards the town, and beyond it, the fields, mountains, river and forest. A peregrine falcon soared past, a wood pigeon clutched in its claws, making for its scrape somewhere on the cliffs of Sturmhalten.

“It can be, yes.” Tarvek watched Agatha’s delighted and fascinated gaze as she followed the hawk with her eyes. “I had a pair of those nesting over there a few years ago.” He pointed to a narrow ledge a few metres below. “It was quite the opportunity to document and sketch them. Unfortunately a different bird of prey must’ve gotten to them because the nest was destroyed when I came back one afternoon.”

“Pity. I remember seeing them stooping for prey when I was much younger, and still traveling with Uncle Barry. They were so fast, I couldn’t follow them with my eyes.” Agatha looked wistful as she turned her gaze out over the town. “I would have liked to look around town, but I couldn’t do so, could I?”

Tarvek shook his head. “It would have been my pleasure to show you around, but…” he looked regretfully at her. “Maybe someday, when you’re safely established as the Heterodyne… I’ll happily play tour guide. But I wouldn’t want you kidnapped by one of my rivals for the Lightning Throne. They’d kidnap you simply because of being in my company.”

“Don’t you have friends visit you?” Agatha asked, puzzled. “It seems unreasonable that anyone would be kidnapped and interrogated just for being seen with you.”

“I don’t have any.” Tarvek replied. The mild tone of voice he used broke Agatha’s heart. “Acquaintances, yes. Friends… no.” He paused, then reached into an inner pocket of his waistcoat. “At least, not _anymore_.” He drew out a folded piece of note paper, unfolded it and tipped it so Agatha and Krosp could see the portrait he had done of Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. “He _was_ my first and only friend when I was a child, and even then, I didn’t know him as the Baron’s son, but as the orphan, Gilgamesh Holtzfäller.”

Agatha stared at the picture then looked up at Tarvek, remembering the way he had finished the picture in his hand. “You used-” _me_ “-to know him? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tarvek looked uncomfortable, as if he’d heard what she had left unsaid. He handed over the picture and adopted a neutral expression. “Because of _how_ our friendship ended… I don’t have many good memories of him, Agatha. You… spoke well of him, despite what happened.” He paused to pour tea for both of them. “Because of that, I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. And… even if he isn’t here and thinks you dead, he is my rival for your affections.” He offered her one of the cups. “It’s petty, but _that_ was the main reason why I asked you to describe him. That so few people know what he looks like and I had the opportunity to find out was a distant second. Knowing who it is _now_ though, I haven’t reported this to my father.”

Agatha took the cup and saucer, and watched Tarvek wince when he saw the ring he’d put on her finger. “I think you had better explain that. I understand your protection of me, but why protect Gil, if you hate him?”

Tarvek considered that for a few moments, as if he’d never thought about it before. “I… don’t hate him, really. Disapprove, perhaps, annoyed or even _dislike_ at the most; certainly, I don’t wish him dead or any such thing, even if _he_ betrayed me.” He shook his head. “Perhaps I _should_ tell you. It is quite the long tale, I’m afraid, and, well, you’ll have my side of it alone, I fear.”

“Tell us anyway,” Krosp urged. 

So Tarvek did, describing how he had been offered up as a hostage but also expected to spy, and how Gilgamesh had helped him do so until that fateful night of breaking into the records vault. “That was probably the night Gil found out who he really was,” Tarvek said. “Looking back _now_ it’s no surprise then he betrayed me. But I didn’t know and it baffled me for years. So I of course, I _needed_ to find out. It became sort of a hobby.”

Agatha looked at him and said, perceptively, “You needed to find out because you wanted to understand why _your friend_ hurt you.” Tarvek went still. “And you needed to find out why he betrayed you when he’d been happy to help you before.”

“Well, I found it. Rather, what I _thought_ was the answer at the time: that Gil was the son of Petrus Teufel, the second most destructive Spark of recent history. So of _course_ , Gil felt upset that I was spying on the man to whom he owed his life, or so I thought at the time. Either way, it made sense, so I buried the records _deeper_ and never told anyone.”

“Wait, hang on,” Krosp held up his paws. “You found records that claimed Gilgamesh was the son of _Teufel_ ? And you didn’t tell _anyone?”_

Tarvek frowned at him. “Why would I tell anyone? I told you, that it made sense to me at the time, and since it made sense, I could _understand_ why Gil betrayed me. I understood… and forgave him. I didn’t want him dead for a _childhood misadventure._ I’m not _that_ much of a snake. But since it turns out he is, in fact, Klaus _Wulfenbach’s_ son…” the young Prince shrugged. “I suppose Gil had every reason to want to throw me off the scent when I met him again in Paris.” 

With that Tarvek continued on his story, a bit sourly. “I was eventually pulled out of Paris because it was clear that with Gil around, my own training couldn’t continue or be evaluated. So they sent me around the courts in the North and Vienna.” He shrugged, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “I may have a reputation for being a flirt and a scheming serpent, but Gil has the reputation of being a debauched, amoral libertine, so I suppose I’m _slightly_ ahead of him?”

Krosp scowled into his milk. “I don’t like how this is shaping out into one of those stage dramas.”

Agatha’s brow knit as Tarvek burst out laughing. With an expression of abject annoyance, she threw up her hands. “Oh for- I _hate_ that you’re right! The Prince befriends a poor orphan, who turns out to be the evil tyrant’s true heir, and-”

“-war breaks out between the two former friends, who are now sworn enemies?” Krosp continued. “Add to the mix _you,_ the Lost Princess of a Prophecy…” the cat glared at Tarvek. “I don’t see why _you’re_ laughing so much, o Hidden Heir of the Lightning Throne.”

“Because you’re right,” Tarvek burbled, taking off his pince-nez so he could wipe at his eyes. “The question is, will this play of mine and Agatha’s life be a tragedy or a farce?” He struck an exaggerated pose. “Shall I burst into song about how the evil tyrant and his vile beast of a son shall never again lay his lascivious hands ‘pon yon fair maiden, for I, the noble hidden Prince, will chop off his hands as penalty for his indescribable impertinences?” Tarvek dropped the silly act, and looked wry. “Besides, it’s laugh; or start screaming about the inevitability of my fate. Also, I really will do my level best to avoid war with Gilgamesh and his tyranny.”

Krosp raised an eyebrow at him. “Really.”

“Well of course. After all, it’s afforded most of Europa almost twenty years of peace and prosperity. The problem is, it’s still run by a jumped-up usurping tyrant and won’t last one _minute_ past his death. I thought Klaus would have been a better scholar of history,” Tarvek sighed as he picked up the tea tray and headed back inside. “But despite its flaws, Klaus has done many, many good things that I have absolutely _no_ interest in disturbing; indeed, would like to continue or expand upon, if given the chance.”

“But for that you _still_ need to go up against him,” Agatha worried.

Tarvek put the tea tray on the service cart and looked back at her, rolling a sugar cube between his fingertips. “I might not. You see, I did a study of how he started his empire - it all started from the ruins of Wulfenbach, shortly after his return from wherever it had been he’d vanished off to.”

“Yes, everyone knows that he started conquering the lands around him, that’s common knowledge in the Recent History classes.”

“That’s _not_ what a study of the battles that resulted in his expansion told me,” Tarvek contradicted. “We all know his first conquest started when he beat the neighboring Lord Grünerdorf when the other one tried to invade, thinking Wulfenbach would be easy pickings. Everyone also thinks that’s when Klaus got a taste of what it’s like to have more than what a Baron is traditionally meant to hold, and off he went, conquering neighbors, and then as his empire expanded, he swallowed up those new neighbors too, and before anyone knew it, he’d conquered most of Europa.” He popped the sugar cube into his mouth and crunched it between his teeth, as if to illustrate it.

Tarvek went back into the study, and pulled out a large scroll map from a tall brass bin in one corner. Then he knelt and spread the map on the floor. “But before he came back from Parts Unknown, the Wulfenbachs had _never_ displayed any interest in ruling beyond their borders. Something must have changed.” He looked up at Agatha and Krosp. “He finally had something to protect, something that meant the world to him: his son.

“But even so, he did not try to expand his borders at first. It wasn’t until the next idiot noble, and then the next Mad Spark Lord went after him that he really started to get a much bigger demesne. And so on, until he finally had a large enough military force that he _could_ skip over waiting to be attacked and gave people the choice of submitting to his rule in peace, or be conquered. If he had declared himself Emperor of Europa, the Fifty Families would have thrown themselves at his feet, but no. As back then, so it is now: Klaus Wulfenbach likes playing by his own rules.”

Krosp eyed him. “What does this have to do with the price of clank parts?”

Tarvek looked at Agatha instead. “Did you _ever_ get the impression that Gilgamesh would want to take over and rule the Empire?”

Agatha thought about it for several minutes, sifting through her memories. “...No. I did not. I got the impression he will take over because he has to, but he seemed happiest doing his work in the lab.”

“Well, as much as I am unsure how much of his behaviour around me was a pose, your assessment lines up with what I remember of Gilgamesh as well.”

Krosp laid his ears flat. “You’re not seriously thinking you’ll just _ask_ him to hand you the Empire, are you?”

Tarvek burst out laughing. “No,” he chortled. “He doesn’t _trust_ me as far as he could throw me, and if he flung me off of Castle Wulfenbach, that’s a fair distance, especially with the rather unpleasant application of a cannon. But I had planned building my own laws similar to his father’s, which themselves are an application of old Andronicus’, and offering an alliance instead of war, using the Holfung-Borzoi relations as an example.” 

He spread a hand over the map. “I don’t want war. I hope that will count for _something_ once the time comes. But at the very least, I hope to be able to offer an alternative.” He shrugged. “If things don’t pan out and there simply isn’t any way for me to achieve this, then I suppose the best I can do is try to lay the groundwork for my descendants to do so. I refuse to tear the peace apart for the sake of ambition. That goes against the reason why the Order continued to be.”

Agatha gazed at Tarvek as she realised that these were plans he’d made long before he met her. She found herself sad for him once again, that he’d resigned himself to an arranged marriage for the sake of continuing the bloodline. _Does he never consider his own happiness at all?_

“The biggest problem in either case might not be the Wulfenbachs, but the nobility who were removed from power by a Spark.” Tarvek’s expression took on a long-suffering aspect. “Which, unfortunately, are a fair number of the ones who couldn’t change with the times. They’re hoping that the return of the Storm King will mean the return of their own fortunes by overthrowing the Sparks that took their place.”

“Wait.” Agatha’s felt her brain twinge. _“You’re_ a Spark. Your family is made of nothing _but_ Sparks.”

“And like the Heterodynes, we Sturmvoraus have had the Spark breed true. Not as long as your family, but…” 

_“You’re_ the Storm King.” The twinging feeling in her head got stronger. Agatha felt a muscle in her cheek twitch. “And they want…” 

Tarvek’s long-suffering expression got even more so. “I didn’t say that they weren’t _idiots_ . If it weren’t for the High Council and Father keeping their leashes short, we’d have had rebellions from the instant I was _born.”_ He reached over and gently massaged Agatha’s temple with his fingertips. “But that is why the Sturmvoraus made a point of making sure the bloodline gained the Spark… and why Grandma matched Mother to Father. Sparks… the future… it’s not the same as it used to be. But the difference is only in _how_ to achieve the goals of the Order; the goal itself doesn’t have to change.”

Krosp was frowning at the map as he thought. “From the sounds of things, they really aren’t happy that you didn’t declare yourself Storm King the moment you reached your majority and led them in war against the Baron.”

“Not all the people I have to kill are assassins; some are here to kidnap me, and hope to use me. Once I ascend to the Lightning Throne, it will be necessary to clean house, as it were.” Tarvek looked grim. “I could hope that our internal civil war will be kept relatively quiet and not spread to the populace, but…” He sighed heavily, annoyed. “I don’t look forward to having to perform the executions that will become necessary if they don’t fall in line, and unfortunately for a lot of my family, _burying them in a row_ is the only way to keep them in line.”

Krosp eyed him shrewdly. “So many of your problems disappear if you marry Agatha and fulfil the Prophecy, though.”

Tarvek nodded, acknowledging the fact. “But she doesn’t want to marry me,” he told the cat. “So it isn’t even a consideration.”

“W-wait, what do you mean, I _don’t_ want to marry you?!” Agatha burst out, flushing. “I never said that!”

Tarvek looked surprised. “You mean you _do?_ Not the lie that you told my father, Agatha.”

“I-” Agatha floundered. “I didn’t say that either.” Her fingers balled. “And not everything I said was a lie!” She leaned forward abruptly, causing Tarvek to fall back on his rear, startled by the fierce expression she wore. “I _wasn’t_ lying when I said you’re wonderful! Nor was I lying when I agreed with your father that you’d make an _excellent_ husband! As a _matter of fact,_ it makes me _so angry_ when I think of you just _meekly marrying_ some randomly selected Princess Perfect-” _Argh! Why won’t he stay put and let me_ yell _at him?!_ “-and it makes me _angrier_ that you are okay with it! You deserve someone who’ll make you _happy!”_

Tarvek’s back bumped into the cabinets below the bookshelves lining the walls of his study. “It’s not that I’m _okay_ with it! I don’t have a _choice_ , really! I explained this already!” he yelped back, thoroughly confused by the situation he suddenly found himself in. “Besides- _eep!”_ Agatha slammed both her hands on either side of his head to make sure he couldn’t flee.

Tarvek looked up with wide eyes at Agatha as she loomed over him, growling. She looked _magnificent_ in her fury, in his eyes. For one wild moment Tarvek saw himself tipping up his head, presenting his throat to her, the same way he’d seen wolves submit, or surrender, in pack disputes. He saw Agatha biting his neck-

“For someone who doesn’t want to marry the man, you two are doing a fantastic sketch of ‘Angry Wife and Henpecked Husband,’ y’know.” Krosp’s drawl cut through the hot fog of Agatha’s embarrassment and indignation, and Tarvek’s increasingly picturesque imaginings. The cat’s tail swished. “Besides, like he says, he doesn’t have a choice. If you _don’t_ marry him, he _will_ have to marry someone - and frankly, what right do _you_ have to object, Agatha?”

“I-I’m…” Agatha trailed off, all of her reasons fizzing away, to be replaced by a blush that could have been seen from the moon. She looked down at Tarvek, who was looking up at her with eyes as wide as saucers as she straddled him, her hands still braced on either side of his head. Agatha suddenly pictured Tarvek having ears like a red fox, those ears flat against his skull, and fluffy tail wrapped around his legs. It was an incongruous mental image, yet it _suited,_ as Tarvek blinked up at her, looking as if he expected her to bite him. Just as weirdly, Agatha _wanted_ to, remembering the sound he’d made when she impulsively nipped his ear the previous evening-

“What am I _doing?!”_ Agatha pushed herself away, wobbled, and would have landed on her butt if Tarvek’s hands hadn’t shot out to steady her. She sat down in front of him, and clapped her hands over her cheeks. “I’m sorry I-” 

Tarvek’s finger pressed against her lips. “Don’t apologise, Agatha,” he said firmly. “You spoke your thoughts and shouldn’t apologise for them. I like it that you’re honest with me. Even if you shout at me, I don’t mind. At least, not when it comes to this topic. I am glad that you care enough about me to feel the way you do.” He let his finger slip from her mouth and lifted her left hand, displaying the ring he’d placed on her finger. “Besides, as you said before… this is _not_ a ring that represents my intent to marry you. Thus, my surprise.” He clasped her hands in his. “Yell at me, if you think I warrant being yelled at, argue with me if you think you should. I’ll do the same. But it is important to me that you let me know what you think.”

Agatha looked at him, her brow furrowed. “You like getting yelled at?”

“No,” Tarvek huffed out the word as a laugh. “Who _does?_ But I like knowing that you care enough to get upset enough to shout.”

“You know I do,” Agatha muttered. She flicked a glance up at him, then looked away, still embarrassed by her behaviour.

“Agatha?” Tarvek tugged on her hands lightly, to try catch her gaze. “I’m sorry. For taking advantage of your drugged state and asking you to describe the Baron’s son.”

Agatha caught his fingers when he tried to pull away. “You didn’t report to your father, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_ matter.” His eyes met hers. “I saw your face earlier, and I know I did you wrong.”

“Yes,” Agatha acknowledged. “But you were also trying to help me at the time, so I’m not sure it really counts.”

“Still. I apologise. I… can’t promise however, that I won’t do something that might displease you, or worse, you’ll be angry with me about, in the future.”

“Don’t be absurd. That’s an impossible promise to try and keep, and nobody can please someone else all the time.” Agatha’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “And you said I can yell at you, so there’s that.”

“Yes, there is that.” Tarvek smiled, then squeezed Agatha’s fingers gently as he relaxed at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm not late after all! Yay!
> 
> In canon, the first instance I could find of Agatha deliberately killing someone was during the Circus fight. She doesn’t really angst or ruminate on that, because of the circumstances around it. Here, she kills for the first time to protect Tarvek, and so I didn’t think she’d angst about it even though it’s a lot more personal, as opposed to death by dingbot.


	14. Wining and Waltzing and Writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaronev and Anevka scheme to set up Agatha and Tarvek… with surprisingly benign intent.

“We’re dining by ourselves tonight?” Tarvek asked, surprised. They’d been informed to dress for dinner, so they had.

“Yes, your Highness. Your royal father was invited over to Lord Selnikov’s mansion, and her Highness, the Princess, had _important_ lab work and did not wish to be disturbed,” the head butler reported. “His royal Highness thus felt that you and the Lady Heterodyne might enjoy a more romantic setting.”

Agatha blushed at the hint of a smile on the older servant’s lips.

Tarvek took this news with aplomb. Without his father and Anevka, he and Agatha _could_ relax a little. He was certain that this had been planned by his father on an impulsive whim to ‘help’ his son ‘have a touch of normalcy,’ and if _this_ was the sort of help that Prince Aaronev Wilhelm was going to give, Tarvek would heartily encourage it.

The large table that had been in the Alabaster Parlour the night before had been replaced by a smaller one. There were still a lot of footmen, far more than Agatha felt necessary to serve two people. To one side, underneath the large portrait of Tarvek’s parents, was an elegantly prepared orchestra. Tarvek helped her into her seat, and as soon as he himself was seated, the orchestra began to play Sibelius’ _Adante Festivo._

“Do you think you’ll want to resume your studies, once you’re established and everything has settled down?” Tarvek asked, as their hors d’ouvres were served - veal _carpaccio_ with thin shavings of parmesan, and deviled eggs topped with caviar. 

Agatha’s expression was thoughtful as she ate. “I would like to,” she admitted. “But Dr. Merlot expelled me as his first act as the ruler of Beetleburg. He never liked me.”

“That’s ridiculously petty of him,” Tarvek frowned. “We’ll have to see if we can get your records.”

“Dr. Glassvitch might have kept them safe,” Agatha realised. _“He_ was always kind to me, despite my difficulties, and how _stupid_ I was back then.”

“I cannot imagine you ever being ‘stupid,’ Agatha.” Tarvek said firmly, sipping the soup that was just placed in front of him.

“I _was_ though,” Agatha said sadly. “I had so many _ideas…_ but when I would start to work on them, or started getting excited, my headaches would come. They were _crippling_ , Tarvek. I wouldn’t be able to think. And everything I made blew up.” She touched where her locket once had been. “All because of the locket Uncle Barry put on me when I was five.”

“Five!” Tarvek exclaimed, shocked. “Why?!”

“Lilith… I mean, Judy… she said I started breaking through at a very young age.” Agatha stared into her soup, and swallowed hard. “...can we not talk about it right now? Please?” She looked up at Tarvek with pleading eyes, but there was nothing but concern for her in his expression. He nodded. They both ate their appetizers in silence.

“But… I gather you enjoyed studying, despite your problems,” Tarvek picked up the thread of conversation, as he nibbled at his summer salad. 

“I did. Well, when I was _able_ to. I loved reading as much as I could, of course, and learning,” Agatha smiled at him. “I rather miss having access to all those academic journals, and text books.”

“I try to keep up, myself. I have a fair collection in my main lab and some recent ones in the study; feel free to go there and pick whichever one you want to read,” Tarvek smiled back, glad he hadn’t upset her too much.

“Oh, may I?” Agatha’s eyes lit up, which pleased him even more. Then her smile turned mischievous. “I should remember to put them back where they belong though, yes?”

 _“Naturellement,”_ Tarvek sniffed, taking up her teasing. “I have _everything_ neatly organised and thus, easy to find.” He dropped the pretend-haughty air and grinned sheepishly. “Actually, that’s the end result of a childhood punishment of having to dust and re-organise the various libraries. I got so sick of having to run from shelf to shelf putting things back where they belonged, I organised them so that it wouldn’t be so _hard_ to do so.”

“You?” Agatha’s eyes were wide as the fish course was served - a pale fillet with a clear, tart sauce and slender matchsticks of pickled vegetables on top. “I can’t imagine _you_ ever being punished for something as a child.”

Tarvek’s eyes danced with amusement. “Are you implying that I was an ever-obedient little boy, Agatha? Does _that_ sound like any boy child you’ve ever met?”

“So, you mean, some of the stories Anevka told me about you were _true?_ ” Agatha feigned being shocked.

“Depending on what stories my dear sister has told you, and I do _not_ know what they were.” Tarvek polished off the last bite of his fish with an air of being much maligned. 

“Well,” Agatha’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “She told me about the time that you got into the mechanisms that operate the elevator that leads to your father’s lab, and he got trapped in there for _hours…”_

Satie’s _Gymnopedie No 1_ accompanied the main course as Tarvek rolled his eyes. “I was making _improvements_ and it wasn’t my fault he didn’t read the note I left in his study! He also ignored the ‘out of order’ sign I thoughtfully put there too!”

Agatha laughed as she cut into the tender pork loin, pausing to appreciate the tangy apple cider, walnut and mustard sauce. “Anevka says you were in full fugue when you started working and didn’t warn your father that you were going to be testing the emergency brakes and dropped him from the top of the tower.” She nibbled on a bit of the shredded apple and radish.

“I didn’t know he was there! He wasn’t _supposed_ to be in there!” Tarvek protested, aggrieved. “And I didn’t hear him screaming over the screech of the emergency brakes - which _worked_ as I designed, mind you!”

“Apparently that was the only thing that kept you from becoming reigning Prince of Sturmhalten at the age of ten.” Agatha smirked at him over her wineglass - which, she was pleased to note, was _not_ drugged.

“I put the signs out and I have them still as proof,” Tarvek grumbled after savouring a bite of his own food. “The elevator worked _ever_ so much better after I was done, and do I get a word of thanks? No!” He looked put upon. “Instead he punishes me by having me replace the wiring of sections of the lightning moat!”

“All by yourself?!” Agatha gasped.

“Well, no, thank heavens,” Tarvek admitted, sipping his wine. “I had some minions assigned to help me, but for some of the accesses, I was the only one small enough to get in there. _That_ got changed rather quickly.”

Agatha thought about this as they both tucked into their meat dish, which was quite flavorful and did not leave her feeling overstuffed when she finished it. “Some of the chatter I heard from the other young folks make it sound like that well, other royalty aren’t as… busy… as you.”

“Ah, well. _Other_ royalty are not Sparks, for the most part.” Tarvek’s expression was wry as he ate a spoonful of the lemon and mint sorbet that was the _entrement_. “I would, frankly, go quite literally _mad_ if I had to limit myself to the amusements of the average _normal_ royal. That said, none of the Fifty Families _dare_ remark if I suddenly shuck my coat, roll up my sleeves and get to work. They’re afraid I’ll turn them into ermines and skin them for a mantle.” He paused, considering it half-seriously. “If I did that, it might be the most useful some of them will have been their whole lives.”

“That bad, huh?” Agatha grinned around a spoonful of her own sorbet.

Tarvek raised his eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve _never_ wanted to turn _someone_ into a crab, to fit their personality.”

Agatha huffed a laugh, that turned into a fit of giggles. “Alright, you’ve got me there. Though, not a crab.”

“Oh? What then?”

“Rats,” she replied. “A couple of times, those little yappy mop dogs.”

“Ah, _those.”_ Tarvek laughed. “I will admit that I’ve met a few people who fit that description as well. I’ve desisted simply because if I did decide to turn them into one of those little mops, they’d actually be able to _bite._ ” He leaned back to let the footman serve the tiny strawberry shortcake that was dessert, and pour the tea. “That would actually make them _more_ dangerous than their original form, so…” He rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation.

Agatha let her laughter bubble away before she tried the cake. At first she’d thought it too tiny to be satisfying, but when she was finished with it, she found she was almost completely sated. The _mignardaise_ was a tiny cherry pie made in the shape of a flower, the large, ruby red cherry glistening in the middle of the delicate puff-pastry petals. After Agatha had popped it into her mouth, and swallowed, she found herself content to sit back and chat. 

It was easy to forget that they were in Sturmhalten, and were perhaps somewhere else, and the conversation that flowed from both Sparks was genuine, and not planned subterfuge. Tarvek promised to make inquiries about Agatha’s scholastic records, and should he be able to retrieve them, offered to sponsor her as a former alumnus to the Institute of the Extraordinary in Paris, if she wished to go there. If not, there were other hallowed halls of education and he had connections in Vienna, Berlin, Munich…

When Agatha mentioned that she would like very much to finish her medical degree, Tarvek grinned. “Would you like a head start? I have my textbooks…”

“It’d be good to have a refresher,” Agatha agreed. “The problem was, they never let me _practice_. I attended all the lectures and classes, but when it came to the practicum…” she sighed. “I was deemed too clumsy.”

“I highly doubt that you’ll be that, Agatha. I watched you work in my lab; you have a skilled, delicate touch. _The only two people I would trust to work successfully in repairing Tinka sit at this table -indeed, you’ve already succeeded further than any other Spark besides myself, and Van Rijn.”_ Tarvek declared, his voice rippling with the Spark, so certain was his conviction. _“The only difference is you have not been allowed to work on organic bodies. Given the opportunity and the time to gain confidence, you’ll be a fine surgeon.”_

“That is very high praise… thank you, Tarvek.” Agatha looked away, blushing from the intensity of his gaze and the sound of his voice rippling over her skin, sending delightful thrills through her veins. She knew he wasn’t lying, if only because they’d worked together on Tinka.

Tarvek’s upturned hand edged into her field of vision and she looked up to find him standing next to her, a smile on his lips. “Would my Lady honour me with a dance?”

Agatha smiled back as she placed her hand in his. “The honour is mine.”

Tarvek led her out to the space in front of the orchestra, stepped away from Agatha so she could curtsey, and he could bow, before taking her into his arms again, pressing her against him. As the orchestra began to play the opening strains of the Kaiser-Walzer, Tarvek led Agatha into the first steps of the Viennese waltz.

It was surreal… and magical… to have a full orchestra playing just for them. To Agatha’s delight, Tarvek was a graceful and skilled dancer, and together they flowed like water over the floor. Once again, Lilith’s dance lessons came in handy, and as the dance’s steps grew more beautifully complex, Agatha was grateful that she could match Tarvek’s skill as they spun in elegant arabesques.

“You move like a dream,” Tarvek said softly as they spun into a second dance, _Künstlerleben_. “I am enchanted by how you move, and fit in my arms.”

“I could say the same for you.” Agatha smiled up at him. “But I can’t take all the credit. Lilith taught music and dance lessons, and once I was tall enough, I helped by being the prop dance partner.”

“Your foster mother taught you wonderfully,” Tarvek said as he tipped her back slightly.

“Your teachers are a credit to you, as well,” Agatha caressed his arm as she slid her hand back into place on his shoulder.

“Yes, well, classically educated aristocrat and all that, and I was expected to attend any number of formal events and balls.” Tarvek said self-deprecatingly as he spun with her, then lifted her up into the air as they spun. “But as it allows me to dance with you, I certainly cannot complain.” 

Agatha whirled on one foot in place, then allowed herself to be tugged so that her back was against Tarvek’s chest. “Surely some of those might have been fun,” she tipped her head back to look at him.

“Oh, I definitely enjoy the dancing,” he assured her as they walked forward for the next few steps. “But perhaps, one day, I might be able to escort you to some of those things; then I will definitely enjoy the _events_.” Tarvek spun her away, and then pulled her back to him once more, so Agatha faced him again. “But I would gladly eschew all those social events if it meant I could dance with you like this every night for the rest of my life.”

“Wouldn’t you get bored?” Agatha asked. “I am hardly polished, like any noblewoman you must have met…”

She’d meant it as a flirty tease, one that Tarvek was supposed to come back with a witty retort. Instead his face became serious, and Agatha knew for certain that Tarvek was not putting on an act.

“I could never, _ever_ be bored with you, Agatha Heterodyne,” Tarvek declared, earnestly. “There is no one else who will fill my heart, or my days, the way you do now. And there _never_ will be.”

Agatha gazed at him, remembering his words to Krosp earlier. _But she doesn’t want to marry me, so it isn’t even a consideration._ She wanted to say “You’re exaggerating,” but a small voice in her head whispered that she _shouldn’t_. It sounded very much like Zeetha’s.

 _Yet he seems prepared to let me go, if I want to walk away,_ Agatha thought, an ache blooming in her chest. _He seems… almost to expect it. That I’ll walk away and eventually discard him when he’s no longer useful. Why?_ A flash of anger steadied her. _Who hurt Tarvek this much?_

Tarvek blinked, seeing that flash of _rage_ brighten Agatha’s eyes, and he wondered where her thoughts had gone. But that was not a question he could ask here, not when they were both surrounded by his father’s men, all of whom could be questioned by his father or Anevka, to find out how their little scheme had gone.

Deftly, Tarvek swung Agatha up into his arms, carrying her, and giving her that much warning, before letting her see the seducer’s smile on his lips, letting her know that he was very much pretending once again. “Fortunately for me, you will always be with me, _n’est ce pas?”_

Agatha wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed Tarvek in a way he hoped one day she would for real. His arms tightened around her as if she had roused a different appetite, and with a husky laugh that hinted and promised _much_ , Tarvek carried her from the room.

⚙

A footman preceded them and opened the door to Tarvek’s apartments, letting them both in. Tarvek swept past the footman, as if eager to get to the bedroom. Suddenly he stopped, and turned slightly. 

“I want there to be _nobody_ who can disturb our privacy until tomorrow,” Tarvek ordered, in a tone of voice that Agatha had never heard him use before. It was a _command_ that promised _extended suffering_ for those who dared disobey him. With deadly softness, he let his Spark rise and thrum in his throat. _“Am I understood?”_

The footman cowered. “Yes, your Highness. As you command, my Lord!”

Tarvek turned away and turned his attention back to Agatha, who found her skin tingling with excitement at the sound of his voice and the look in Tarvek’s eye. With a soft pleased noise, he kissed her again, this time with _need_ as he strode through his bedroom door. He laid Agatha on top of the duvet just as they both heard the door close. Immediately, Tarvek straightened - or tried to, for Agatha’s hands gripped the lapels of his dinner jacket. He barely caught himself as he lost his balance, and stopped himself from flattening Agatha with his body.

“Oops,” Agatha whispered, and let go. “I thought we’d have to kiss a bit longer. Sorry.” She quietly admitted she wasn’t sure if she meant for holding on to him, or for the fact that they _weren’t_ going to kiss some more. She flushed at the thought.

Tarvek pushed himself off of her and sat on the bed, helping her up so she could sit next to him. “It’s alright,” he smiled reassuringly.

“What was _that_ about?” Krosp asked, climbing onto the bed from where he’d been hiding under it. “You sounded like you were ready to vivisect that guy.”

“Gotta use my royal madboy skills for _some_ good, right?” Tarvek chirped, his cheerful countenance so very different from the one he had just presented. 

“Right. What was that for?” Krosp drawled again.

“I got us a nice, undisturbed night, where we are supposed to be _passionately entwined_ making _mad, mad love_ until dawn! If they write plays of us, they shall _sing arias_ about what they imagine we do behind closed doors!” Tarvek gestured with exceeding drama, making Agatha giggle at his ridiculousness. 

Krosp looked at him then at Agatha. “Where’s the switch so I can turn him off again? I still haven’t gotten an answer.”

“Well, for starters, it means in a little while, you, my darling Agatha, can settle and relax in a nice warm bath, perhaps with a book, which I will prepare for you, and I will be able to nip away and prepare a hiding place for your friends, where they will await our escape.”

Agatha straightened as Tarvek bounced to his feet and headed to the bathroom. “What do you mean?”

“Tonight, I will advise the Circus to leave on their journey to Mechanicsburg in the morning. As they are my guests, I will have to see them off and get a few things for you, of course. Afterward, I will meet them on the other side of the pass. After a head start of maybe a week or two to give them plenty of time to get away, and to lull my father into complacency, we’ll follow them.” Tarvek leaned over the tub and twisted the spigots, testing the water’s temperature until he was satisfied. He plugged the bottom, then rummaged in a cabinet until he brought out a jar of bath salts. “I have some that’s good for tired muscles, but I see that you’ve been supplied with a dried rose petals and milk mix as well.” Tarvek held out a second jar to Agatha, which she took, opened and sniffed.

Krosp stood just outside the bathroom, his tail swishing as he frowned. “What makes you so sure you’ll be obeyed?”

“Because what I did just then I haven’t done before. I don’t normally _have_ a reason to terrify the servants into doing something - I just ask, and since most of my requests or commands are fairly mundane, there is no reason to deny them,” Tarvek explained reasonably. “Let my father think I’ve my passions up enough to act a little unusually possessive. I am supposed to be utterly besotted, after all.”

“Aren’t you?” Krosp’s desert-dry tone had Agatha looking back and forth between the cat and the young Prince.

“I am. But as I have said… it is up to Agatha if she chooses to return them, and she is under no obligation to return my love, regardless of what _I_ choose to do for that love’s sake.” Tarvek smiled gently at her. “You’ve told me you care for me. That’s far more than I hoped for.”

“Yes, I did say that.” Agatha looked up at him with solemn eyes. “Thank you. For seeing my friends to safety.”

Tarvek laughed softly, embarrassed. “Let me _actually_ get it done before you thank me. Is there a note you’d like me to pass on to them? I’ll take it for you.”

“That’s a good idea, but I think I’ll only have time for a quick note or two. I’d like to write something longer…” Agatha chewed her lower lip thoughtfully.

“Then those letters I will take with me tomorrow morning. But I think they’d appreciate something reassuring. I’ll get you some plain note paper while you choose how much bath salts you’d like in there.”

When Tarvek returned with the note paper and a fountain pen, Agatha sat down on the bed to write while he minded the water and changed clothes. She finished writing just as she heard the water being shut off, and finished folding the notes.

Tarvek came out, wearing a dark blue shirt and a purple jacket so dark it looked almost black. He was holding a strange looking pistol in one hand, checking it over. “All done? Your bath is ready, my lady.”

“So, how are you going to get out of here?” Agatha asked, handing over her notes. Without glancing at them, Tarvek tucked them into an inner pocket of his jacket.

“Out the balcony.” Tarvek looked at Krosp. “I’ll need you to let me back in when I return.” 

“What do you mean, out the _balcony?”_ Agatha asked, alarmed. “Do you mean to jump out of here?”

“Yes?” Tarvek looked puzzled. “I’ve done it before.” He held out the thing in his hand. “Grappling hook gun. Smoke Knights use it to get across wide spaces and up to high places. I’ve stolen a few over the years.”

“Oh.” Agatha sagged in relief. “Say that next time. You had me worried.”

“My apologies, Agatha. I hadn’t thought of how unnerving my previous statement sounds.” Tarvek looked sheepish as he reached behind a curtain and pulled out a long, hooded cloak of dark grey cloth. “I am used to getting in and out of the palace this way though, so, don’t worry. I’m quite safe.” He wrapped the cloak around his shoulders, pulled up the hood and smiled at her. “I picked out some technical journals I thought you’d find interesting reading while having a soak. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Even with Agatha looking straight at him, she couldn’t see what it was Tarvek did - one moment he was there, and the next, he was gone. Agatha went to the bathroom, and found the journals Tarvek had spoken of on a metal table next to the tub - evidently he enjoyed reading while soaking as well.

But as she soaked in the hot, soothing water, Agatha found herself thinking back to their varied conversations during the day, and wondered yet again who had hurt Tarvek so much that he viewed how people would want him around based on how _useful_ he was to them, and not for the pleasure of his company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Wusemajor on the Girl Genius Discord for giving me ideas on what to have these two talk over dinner about. You wanted to know what Anevka and Agatha talked about? Wish granted!
> 
> The servings of food aren’t very large, except for the main course, which is still not a very big serving. Plus they’re Sparks. They burn calories, in my headcanon, a bit more than the average person, especially if they’re regularly Sparking out.


	15. Travel Plans, Tension and Turmoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarvek runs some errands at night - because really, that's the only time he has to himself; and then some things change between him and Agatha.

Lars stared gloomily into the fire. He knew very well that they’d only been in town a few days, but it felt like it had been longer. He’d stayed out of the wagon to give Abner and Pix some couple’s time. It made him miss Agatha even more. _Even if we haven’t done anything but kiss…_ He sighed, becoming even more depressed.

They’d done what Prince Tarvek had asked, and purchased supplies, food and gear for whoever was going to stay behind and wait for Agatha, and for the Jägers. They’d purchased horses and a couple of sturdy donkeys, along with resupplying everything the Circus had needed or wanted. Prince Tarvek’s word had been good - the shops had given them everything they’d asked for, no questions asked, once the note he had given Master Payne was presented. The shopkeepers and their assistants leaped to fulfil every request as if it were the young Prince himself standing there.

What irritated Lars was how the shopkeepers spoke about Tarvek - not the servile bootlicking everyone expected, but _genuine_ favour. He’d been behind the modernisation of much of Balan’s Gap, such as the installation of electric streetlamps, and electrical connections to every resident’s domicile, and his heating design kept people’s homes warm. Everyone had _hot water!_ They were so _fond_ of Sturmhalten’s heir that they had _no_ plans of overcharging him!

 _Feh. More likely they’re terrified of whatever brutal punishment he’d bring down on them if they did._ Lars used the toe of his boot to nudge one of the logs deeper into the fire. Unbidden, Lars remembered Tarvek as he looked when he’d ridden into their camp for the first time, and scowled deeply on recalling how the _women_ had reacted to Tarvek’s voice. Listening to him talk and watching him move with such natural confidence had made Lars, seasoned as he was, feel like a pimply, callow boy once again. _Ugh. Couldn’t he at least have been ugly or something? It’s unfair._

So absorbed was he in his thoughts that Lars did not realise there was someone standing in front of him until fingers started waving in front of his face. Lars yelped and jerked away, looking up to find the self-same Prince he was grumping about looking down at him with bemusement, his glasses gleaming opaque in the firelight from under a hood. “Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

“But… I didn’t.” Tarvek pointed over to Rivet’s wagon. “I started trying to catch your attention from over there. When that didn’t work, I walked over and said your name a few times.”

Lars flushed. Rivet’s wagon was on the far side of where the wagons had circled around the fire. “And what are you doing here _your Highness?”_ Lars managed to make the style sound like an insult.

Tarvek ignored the venom in Lars' voice. “I need to talk to Master Payne and Zeetha. Please wake them for me.”

Lars stared at him with dislike, then got up. He didn’t trust himself to say anything - antagonising Sturmvoraus was risky, Zeetha had explicitly pointed out that Agatha’s life was in his hands after she’d whacked Lars for trying to attack the young Prince before.

When the requested people, plus Countess Marie, were gathered in front of Master Payne’s wagon, Tarvek reached into his cloak and handed the notes over to the master of the circus as his opener. “I would strongly advise leaving either tomorrow, or the day after. You’ll need to send a messenger to the palace to notify me so I can officially see you off and get some of Agatha’s things for her. I believe the note for Zeetha has a list.”

“What, you _didn’t_ peek?” Lars sniped, before he could stop himself. Zeetha jabbed him with her elbow.

“I did not,” Tarvek replied with quiet dignity. “I know you all have little reason to trust me, but I do have Agatha’s wellbeing in mind.”

“You wouldn’t be here otherwise, your Highness.” Countess Marie shot Lars a glare as Master Payne, having looked at the names on the notes, handed Lars his rather pointedly.

“If you can’t be civil, go back to your post, Lars,” Master Payne said sternly.

“It’s alright, Master Payne,” Tarvek waved it aside. “As I assume that Lars will be part of the party that will await Agatha, he’ll need to hear what the next step will be.” He then told them that he would meet them on the other side of the pass, and take Zeetha, Lars and the Jägers to a hiding place only Tarvek knew of.

"How is she?" The Countess asked. As Agatha was a young lady, she was the Countess' nominal responsibility. 

"Agatha is well. She learns quickly, and I have given her access to all the textbooks and journals at our disposal.” The grin that briefly crossed Tarvek’s face lit up the darkness. “My father is keen to convince her to stay and my sister is simply delighted to have another woman to speak with that she can actually _talk_ to. Agatha’s also helped me _immensely_ with a very delicate project I’ve been working on." Tarvek sighed. "She is wonderful… but Agatha must reach Mechanicsburg, and so I will help her reach it.”

“I’ve got a question: Why can’t we get Agatha _now_ and just run?” Lars managed to ask the question in a relatively neutral tone. When Tarvek looked deeply disappointed at him, Lars gritted his teeth.

“Because, as I have said, there are things that Agatha needs to learn, first and foremost. Also, I do not think the Circus can out-run pursuit. The two weeks is to give _Agatha’s_ friends a head start that _hopefully_ will get you ahead enough that we can meet you in Mechanicsburg.” Tarvek sighed and looked back to Master Payne. “Were you planning to stop by any villages and towns en route?”

Master Payne hastily rearranged his plans. “Only overnight stays,” he assured the young Prince.

“I realise the haste that I am imposing upon you is costing you the opportunity for business, so…” Tarvek reached into his cloak once again and handed Payne a sack of gold, to the circus master’s surprise. It was substantial enough Master Payne had to hold it with two hands, and Master Payne’s hands were not small.

“Your Highness, this isn’t necessary-”

“Consider it a bribe, if it makes you feel better.” Tarvek said dryly. “I promised Agatha I would get you out safely. I will use _any_ means possible to do so. Get your people the hell out of here, Master Payne.”

“...I can see why the storekeepers didn’t want to overcharge you,” Payne breathed. “I’m having an attack of conscience and want to tell you that this is well over at least half a year’s earnings on a _good_ year.”

Tarvek smiled abruptly. “You mean you _didn’t_ think it’s because I’d have them punished if they dared?” He chuckled. “Not that I would have objected to a _reasonable_ service fee, and they know it.” Tarvek turned to Zeetha. “Everything is prepared?”

Zeetha looked up from her note. “Yep, and then some. Are you _really_ doing morning training with her?”

“Yes, I am - I have to; we made the excuse it’s regular exercise. Well, as close to the training as we can approximate anyway. Why?” Tarvek flinched back from the sudden leering grin that appeared on Zeetha’s face. “She asked about the male equivalent of the training costume, didn’t she?”

“She did.”

“Oh dear.” Tarvek’s voice was faint. “ _Please_ don’t tell me it’s in the nude.”

“I’m not spoiling the surprise,” Zeetha grinned wickedly, and looked him very deliberately up and down. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her what you’ll _need._ ”   
Tarvek felt goosebumps prickle all over his body. _Are those fangs? Those_ are _fangs. Why does she have long canines?_ He coughed. “Is there anything else anyone would like me to pass on to Agatha?”

“Yeah,” Lars said, gritting his teeth at the thought of Sturmvoraus seeing _that_ outfit on Agatha. “We’ll be waiting for her.” He eyed Tarvek challengingly.

Tarvek nodded. “I shall see you on the morrow.” To their shock, he vanished.

Zeetha was looking up at a distant roof. “Woah. He’s fast.” They all looked up to see a figure standing near the chimney, and disappearing. “And I’m pretty sure he _let_ me glimpse him. He has an interesting skillset, for a _supposed_ pampered princeling.”

“Zeetha,” The Countess looked at her. “The male equivalent of the outfit _isn’t_ in the nude, is it?”

Zeetha’s wicked grin bloomed once more. “Of course not. He gets the same novice outfit because men get trained so rarely back home, there isn’t an official one for them. But that was a fun reaction from Sturmvoraus, wasn’t it?”

“Wicked girl,” Countess Marie chided, but she was smiling. “He’s a very nice boy, for you to tease him so.”

“That makes it even _more_ fun.”

⚙

Krosp looked up when he heard tapping on the window. Tarvek was standing outside the closed balcony’s glass doors. The cat shoved the footstool over and unlocked the door. “It’s past midnight,” he remarked. “I thought you’d turned back into a pumpkin.”

Tarvek snorted a laugh. “I needed to check the cave, and make sure no-one has found it. It’s some distance from here.” He paused to remove his cloak and shake it clean. “From the cobwebs, I’d say nobody but myself still knows about the place.”

Krosp sniffed. “You smell of moss.”

“That’s encouraging,” Tarvek remarked as he knocked forest dirt from the bottom of his boots. “It means that there hasn’t been much _living_ in there either.”

To Tarvek’s surprise Agatha was sitting on the bed, still awake and reading, a handful of sealed envelopes sitting on the bedside table. She smiled, set aside the technical journal and moved to get up. 

“No, don’t - I have to head straight to the shower and get clean,” Tarvek cautioned. “I’m quite dusty.”

“How did it all go?”

“It went well. The Circus will leave tomorrow midmorning, and Zeetha will get everything you asked for ready. Lars says they’ll wait for you.” Tarvek smiled as he delivered his messages. “The cave I was hoping to use as their hiding place is still a safe place for them to be, so I will bring them there.”

“Cave?” Agatha echoed.

“I don’t do all of my secret training here,” Tarvek explained. “I sneak away to do most of it there. More room to move, for one, and I can hide weapons larger than knives. There’s a way to reach it from the labyrinthine complex of caves under the castle that’s well and truly far away from the usual system that’s managed by the Sturmhalten Sewer Rats.” He shuddered.

“Bad?” Krosp asked.

“They’re _sewers,_ Krosp. Of course it’s bad. Whoof!” Tarvek tapped his nose. “I need this functional so I avoid them. And speaking of, I need a shower. I _really_ feel gritty.”

When Tarvek came back out, he was holding a large pot of salve. “I almost forgot about this, but I’m going to need some before we do morning training again later.” He sat down on the bed, pulled up a pants leg and started working a generous amount into his calf and thigh. Agatha sat next to him and started doing the same to herself, chatting about the journal articles she’d found particularly interesting. Krosp hissed at the smell and sat as far away as he could. For some time, the two Sparks talked about machine consciousness advancements. 

“It would be fascinating to see how your little helper clanks - dingbots, if I recall correctly - would compare to the current machine consciousness standardised tests.” Tarvek stretched his legs by lazily performing a split, then straightening back up to a sitting position. He sighed when something went _pop_ in his spine.

“Want me to do your back?” Agatha offered.

Tarvek blinked. “It seems unfair if I’m the only one who gets a back rub,” he said. 

“I only need some on my lower back,” Agatha said. “ _You_ on the other hand…”

“...I’d appreciate the favour. Thank you.” Shy, he removed his pajama top and undershirt, and stretched out on his stomach, his head pillowed on his arms.

Agatha stared at his back in horror. They weren’t very visible, because of Tarvek’s pale skin, but across his shoulderblades was a network of scars - almost like - “Is that a skull and crossbones?!” she gasped.

Tarvek flinched. “...I thought I had managed to treat them enough that they weren’t visible any more,” he murmured. “My apologies, Agatha. I should have warned you.”

“Forget apologising to _me! Tarvek! Who did this to you?!”_ Agatha looked both appalled and _angry,_ her voice sliding towards fugue.

“I was kidnapped by a crazy pirate woman while I was staying in Paris. She thought it amusing to have ‘a proud and poncy Prince’ scrubbing her decks.” Tarvek’s voice was carefully neutral. “One night she commented that I had such pale skin that it was like paper… and proceeded to draw on me with one of her daggers.”

Agatha’s fingertips hovered over the faint tic-tac-toe game carved onto Tarvek’s left shoulder, the hissing cobra, a hangman game, an airship, and a fake treasure map, complete with ‘x marks the spot.’ His words filtered through her growing fury. “Crazy pirate woman?” She blinked. “Black hair, dark brown skin, a little skull on her forehead?”

Tarvek flipped over, eyes wide. “You _know_ her?! Agatha, she’s _dangerous,_ how did-”

“I saw her at Castle Wulfenbach, Tarvek. She worked for the Baron. And she was with Gil when they came looking for me at the Circus when I first escaped.” 

Tarvek sat up, alarmed. “She _works for the Baron?!”_

“Bangladesh DuPree,” Krosp said from across the room. “Wulfenbach’s enforcer and Pirate Queen. Yes, she works for the Baron, and she listens to his orders. She’s very, very good at what she does, and she _enjoys_ it.”

Tarvek turned to Agatha, and found her staring at nothing as she remembered that day. Her eyes slowly widened, and she whispered, “Gil… Gil said that he’d give Abner to DuPree, if he found out that Abner was lying.” She focused on Tarvek, eyes gleaming with hurt. “He said he’d give _everyone_ to her.” She sagged against him.

“Agatha?!” Tarvek tipped her back so he could see her face. A tear ran down her cheek.

“I thought Gil was better than that.” Agatha gritted her teeth. “He didn’t have any _weapons_ in his labs, did you know? He never made any. I thought he was _nice.”_ She snatched off her glasses and dashed the tears away. “I was _wrong.”_ She crammed her glasses back on her face.

Tarvek wrapped his arms around her when she let her head fall against his chest again, stroking her hair soothingly. “Shh, shh… if you were wrong, then so was I. I too would _never_ have thought Gil to be so merciless.”

“Would you have punished innocent people with death for lying to you?”

“No. That’s absurd.” Tarvek paused. “...If the lie caused a lot of unnecessary death and destruction, then maybe.”

“But you have a caveat, and a good one,” Agatha said. “That makes you much better than him.”

Tarvek shivered as he felt her fingertips slide up his back and trace over the faintest hints of the scars left there, distracting him from pondering that statement of his relative good morals.

“Did he send her after you? Do you think he knew?”

Tarvek barely heard her whisper. “I don’t know. It may be _possible_ , but I cannot say for _certain.”_ He pondered the second question. “While I also cannot say for certain that Gil knew she’d kidnapped me, I saw this DuPree in his company when we were in Paris. It seems unlikely he didn’t know. Perhaps I didn’t know him after all. Perhaps he changed, since I knew him as a child.”

“That pirate woman _enjoyed_ hurting you, I can tell. The drawings on your back… they look like a _child’s_ drawings.” Agatha looked up at him. “She looked like that, you know. Like a child being given a new toy to play with, when Gil said he might give everyone to her to kill. You were nothing but a toy for her to play with,” A fingertip caressed the lines of the ‘x’ on Tarvek’s shoulder. 

“...She did rather like hearing me scream.” Tarvek was ashamed to admit that. He had hated giving her the satisfaction, but she’d been exquisitely skilled with the knife.

Agatha suddenly hugged him tight, and pulled herself up so that her face was level with his. “I’ll never forgive her for what she did to you,” she said.

“Agatha…” Tarvek stroked her cheek, touched by her fierce expression, but also caressed her to soothe her. “It was long ago. The scars are almost gone. If you wish, I can show you the lotions and oils I used to reduce them. Maybe they’ll work better if you properly rub them in instead of me fumbling at my back.”

“I’d like to do that anyway. I _still_ won’t forgive her.” She glared at him fiercely, protectively - an expression that warmed his heart and had the beginnings of a smile tugging at Tarvek’s lips. Tarvek opened his mouth to reply-

-and forgot everything he wanted to say when Agatha leaned forward and kissed him. _Really_ kissed him - arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, Tarvek glimpsed Krosp flinching and then fleeing out the bedroom door, fur fluffed in alarm. With a gasp, Agatha pulled away, then kissed him again, with _need_ in every movement of her lips, and she seemed to open for Tarvek, as he held her, as her tongue danced with his, the way she seemed to yield even as Agatha pushed Tarvek back down on the bed. The world narrowed to Agatha, the taste of her lips, and the feel of her body pressing against his.

But the taste of salt mingled with the hot sweetness of Agatha cut through the fog of mind-blanking desire that had started to settle on Tarvek’s senses. Realising that there was more than desire at play, he pulled away, just enough to break the kiss. “No,” he gasped. _“No_ , Agatha.”

Agatha lifted her head, eyes flashing with hurt, anger… and desperation. “You don’t want me? I’m not _drugged_ , Tarvek-”

Tarvek shifted his hips against her with a wince, proving her wrong. He said it aloud anyway. “I _want_ you… red fire and embers, oh _how_ I want to make love with you.” He stopped her from kissing him again by cupping her face. “But not like _this._ Not when you’re distraught and unhappy.” His thumb traced the tracks of her tears, then Tarvek met her eyes and said his suspicions out loud. “Not when your thoughts are _not_ of me, or of us, but wanting to forget Gilgamesh.” 

She flinched, letting Tarvek know he’d deduced her feelings correctly. Agatha tried to push away but he held her tight against him with his other arm. “That’s not-” But Agatha couldn’t finish, not with the way Tarvek was looking up at her, not with the way she could see him adjusting his thoughts for her sake. 

“However… If… if that is what you really need from me… then…” Tarvek swallowed. “If you really _want_ that… I will give you what you need. But Agatha… I _need_ to know you will not regret it in the morning.”

For one wild, impulsive moment, she wanted to tell him, _yes, I do need this, I need this from you, make me forget that I ever felt anything for anyone else but you, who claims to love me, prove it_ \- 

_But he proves it again and again, every time he pulls away whenever you and he must stop pretending,_ a small voice whispered in her mind - once again, it sounded very much like Zeetha’s. _Any other man would take the pleasure of taking advantage of your situation. Would Gil have stopped, or simply gotten carried away? Or Lars? He is proving it now, by offering you something he’s been holding back, even though Tarvek already told you he would rather love you because you want_ him _… not because you want to use him because he’s conveniently there and available._

“No,” Agatha whispered, horrified at herself. She looked down at Tarvek, and wanted to cry - not because of Gil, and his association with the horrible Bangladesh DuPree, but because _she’d_ been willing to hurt Tarvek to ease her _own_ hurt. And she remembered wondering before: _Who hurt him so?_

Agatha had her answer: everyone who ever took him for granted, used him, then dismissed him once they’d had their use of him or his skills. And now that included her.

Tarvek nodded, and eased her gently off him so she lay next to him instead of on top of him. Cradling her in his arms, he tucked her head on his shoulder and petted her hair, comforting and soothing.

That gentleness set her off, and Agatha couldn’t stop the tears of guilt from spilling over. “I’m sorry!” she choked. “I’m sorry, Tarvek! I’m sorry, I’m _sorry!”_ She sat up, buried her face in her hands and wept in shame. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to hurt you like that!”

“I know you didn’t… you were distraught.” Tarvek told her, his voice tender. “I’m not hurt. It’s alright.” He drew her near and held her as she cried. “I’m alright, Agatha.”

 _Liar!_ Agatha wanted to shout, but he’d _promised_ … and he’d kept his oath. Tarvek’s understanding and forgiveness cut deep. Not willing to impugn his sense of honour the way she’d almost been willing to hurt his heart, she cried and cried until there were no tears left. 

Tarvek gently removed Agatha’s glasses and put them on the bedside table. He slipped his arms from around her and rose from the bed so he could tuck Agatha in. She quietly watched him as he went to the ensuite, soft hiccups the only sound she made, and came back with a moistened face towel, which he silently offered to her. While he’d been in there, he’d slipped his pajama top back on as a nod to modesty.

Agatha sat up, and wiped her face. Tarvek quietly cleaned her glasses as she did. The cool towel felt good against her swollen eyes. When it was no longer cool, she handed it back. Tarvek returned it to the sink, then came back to the bed, but did not get in. Agatha looked up at him, hating the feeling of an invisible insurmountable wall that had formed between them. _This is my fault,_ she thought. _I took his feelings for me for granted. I took_ Tarvek _for granted._

“Would you prefer it if I slept somewhere else tonight, Agatha?” Tarvek’s understanding and sympathy sliced at Agatha’s heart yet again. “I’m not angry or anything like that, but perhaps you’d like to be alone…”

Agatha vehemently shook her head. “It’s your bed. I should be the one to find somewhere else to sleep in that case.” She looked at him, vulnerable and feeling very afraid that if one of them left, everything would be irreparable. “I don’t want you to go, Tarvek.”

Tarvek sat on the edge of the bed. “I’d only be in the drawing room, Agatha…”

“That’s not what I meant.” Agatha muttered. 

Tarvek glanced down, seeing the cuff of his pajama sleeve pinched between her forefinger and thumb. _I wonder if she realises she did that._ But he understood what she wanted to say, but was too embarrassed, or uncomfortable to put into words.

Tarvek cupped her face in his hands, and leaned forward slowly. Agatha blinked when he lightly bonked his forehead against hers, and stared into her eyes. “My love for you is not so easily shattered, Agatha.” She couldn’t see his slight frown, but she could _hear_ it in his voice. “I am _not_ some fickle, callow boy, whose heart is so easily swayed by the first metaphorical stiff breeze.” She blinked at him again, and Tarvek squished her cheeks slightly between his palms. “Only death might stop my love for you, and even then, I doubt it.”

Agatha squirmed. “Okay, I deserved that.”

 _Now_ Tarvek looked aggrieved. _“That_ is what you took away from everything I said just now? _Really?!”_ He threw his hands up in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, I-” Agatha caught his hands in hers. “I’m not very good at this.” Tarvek raised his eyebrow. “I’ve never really had a real relationship before, okay? I didn’t even have _friends_ until very recently! I don’t know what to say and I keep putting my foot in my mouth and you’re so much _better_ at this than I am!”

Tarvek looked over his shoulder, then the other, and then back at Agatha. “Oh, you were addressing _me,_ the _only_ friendless virgin in the room.”

Agatha gripped his fingers tighter, if only to stop herself from the impulsive smack she wanted to give him. But then Tarvek smiled at her and realised that she’d danced to his tune. The smile got deeper when he registered that she’d figured out what he was doing. “You really _are_ a manipulative weasel, aren’t you?” 

“You’re no longer feeling weepy, and are willing to be grumpy at me, which is a large step forward, wouldn’t you say?” Tarvek dropped the pose he’d taken and rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. “I want you to look at me, and listen very carefully, Agatha, because I want you to understand.”

Agatha bit her lip, but met his eyes.

“I desire you, very, _very_ much. You… you’re everything I could have hoped and dreamed for, and you know I never thought I’d be fortunate enough to fall in love before I was directed into some loveless marriage where, as you’ve put it, I’m some prize stud stallion expected to perform and simply have sex to produce heirs. I _am_ capable of that strictly physical act - any man who tells you otherwise is lying. Mind, I wouldn’t have been so callous as to simply take my pleasure and leave it at that; I am not so unkind to not have brought pleasure to whoever that might have been. But there wouldn’t have been love in the act, Agatha. Since I met _you…_ I’ve wanted _more_ than merely the pleasure of the bed and more than the joining of bodies, and I think that you’d want that as well.”

Agatha flushed. She remembered her conversations with Zeetha, about Lars. Yet, when the opportunity had presented itself… she’d hesitated, even with all of Zeetha’s assurances that Lars would be ‘good enough’ for ‘fun’... and then Krosp had interrupted them before anything more could happen after Lars had kissed her rather probingly, intensely, to see how she’d react. She’d almost been swept away by the moment… but then she realised that had been _after_ she’d voiced her hesitation.

 _Tarvek never pushed._ Agatha blinked and looked back up at him, realising that Tarvek was waiting for her to pay attention again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… you got me thinking.”

“I noticed,” the small gentle smile was on his lips again. “May I continue?”

“Yes.”

“Even if we weren’t taking into account your unresolved feelings regarding Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, or Lars… the situation we are in forces us to play roles that, had we met in far more amiable and fortunate circumstances, I would never have chosen. I would have courted you properly, if you’d have let me press my suit for your hand, and if I were fortunate enough to be chosen by you, perhaps…” Tarvek sighed. “That is well out of reach now, but I _am_ trying my best to be civilised despite everything.” He flushed a little. “Believe me, it would be easy to simply continue past the pretense… I am still a man, Agatha, one who holds the one he loves and desires and needs above any other in this world, when we must put on that passionate show. To some extent, I am not pretending, for my physical response to you is something I cannot deny I have. Kissing you, holding you, as if we are about to make love… perhaps it is because I so quickly pull away, that you mistake my ability to do so as _easy._ But I _must_ do so quickly, Agatha. Because I still _do_ burn with desire for you.”

Agatha bit her lip. He was right. She _had_ thought it was easy for him, that she was the only one with dreams of _what if_ that she woke from at night, while he seemed to sleep peacefully. “So why…” 

“Because the pretense is exactly that, Agatha. To embrace you and love you simply because I got carried away by the responses stirred by the act we put on, to grab a moment’s pleasure and intimacy… I think you’d regret that. I know _I_ would. And… it feels like I would be taking _advantage_ of your attraction for me, for my own selfish needs. Just the thought alone is enough to wither desire. I can’t hurt you like that.” Tarvek swallowed, his expression strained and tense with the thought.

Agatha wanted to curl up and hide in a deep, deep hole. “Yet you offered to let _me_ use you like that!”

“I love you.” Those simple words silenced her. “You care for me. There is a difference, because I offered it to the one I love when she might truly need it.” Tarvek looked at her solemnly. “I would have given you what you _needed_ , Agatha.”

Agatha stared at him, remembering how she’d felt the day she asked Tarvek to show her how he really wanted to kiss her. Remembered how wonderful and _complete_ she had felt, to be loved and cherished like that. Realised that the kiss while they sat at the spinet had been _real._ Understood the difference between the seducer’s kisses, and _Tarvek’s_ kisses. She swallowed, feeling hollowed out by the thought of the absence of those emotions.

Tarvek reached out and gently tucked a lock of Agatha’s hair behind her ear. “Perhaps one day, you will come to desire me of your own accord, with nothing in your eyes but wanting you and I to melt together in the flames of our passion. If that day comes… I am yours. I will take you in my arms and love you with _everything_ I am. It will be wonderful, I promise you. But until that day comes, I will stop us both from going too far, for your sake… and mine.” 

This time, when Tarvek leaned forward, he brushed his lips over hers, a gentle promise, before touching his forehead to hers gently. “Now you know why I pull back.”

Agatha twined her fingers with his. “You’ll sleep in the bed?” _Next to me?_

“Yes. But I think we’ll have to forgo morning training.”

“I won’t tell Zeetha if you won’t,” Agatha muttered.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a rather emotionally intense chapter to write. I swear, these two really do live in my head. I feel I need to explain why the characters took the chapter and ran away to metaphorical Tijuana with it.
> 
> The Agatha I’m writing is **not** the post-Sturmhalten, Lu-installed, post Castle Heterodyne arc Agatha; she’s still growing into being Agatha Heterodyne. There’s still bits of her more innocent and idealistic Agatha Clay self. 
> 
> Agatha is still young - and while she’s been well raised and is good and all, from what I read in the novels she’s very inexperienced in relationships as a whole. She didn’t have many friends really - she wandered around with Barry and was bullied because she didn’t fit in; which lead to Barry settling her with Adam and Lilith. Because of her fits and headaches, Agatha didn’t have friends even when they finally _did_ settle down in Beetleburg. Then for those same reasons again, she wasn’t well regarded in the University. She was locked down emotionally along with her Spark. Since losing the locket - all of three, maybe four months at most from the start of story in canon to the start of the Sturmhalten arc - Agatha’s had three attractive men be attracted / fall for her in rapid succession - that’s going to go to any young person’s head even just a _little_ bit. 
> 
> Agatha leans on Zeetha pretty heavily for advice on such matters regarding Lars in _Clockwork Princess,_ and throws the Circus into a state of chaos because Agatha is very inexperienced in the matters of the heart, and Lars was blowing hot/cold with her and confusing her while he wasn’t sure of how to proceed with an infatuated young Sparky woman- a great tactic for getting a girl to focus on you, but Payne pulled him up short before Agatha dismantled the Circus. Agatha is _not_ fantastic with strong emotions, and realistically, can anyone blame her? 
> 
> TLDR - Agatha’s going through emotional adolescence only now thanks to the locket locking down not just her mind, but her emotions. Emotional highs are part of the Spark after all. Now that the locket is no longer a factor, it’s not just her mind and senses turned loose, but also her ability to feel - indicated when she plays the repaired Silvereodon. (Music = passion)
> 
> So Agatha makes a mistake here on impulse and because of strong emotions and inexperience - a pretty bad one, especially since Tarvek has been doing his absolute best to take it slowly, even though everything and nearly everyone around them both is pushing them towards not just a full-blown relationship emotionally and sexually, but also marriage. Fortunately for her Tarvek’s lessons in seduction would have taught him that Agatha’s state of mind and distress were good vulnerability hooks to exploit - so he identifies them correctly and stops her yet again, even if she is hurt by his ‘rejection.’ 
> 
> Tarvek’s offer is made because he loves her and he _thinks_ he can live with the hurt of being used, but he cannot stand the thought of hurting her, or her being hurt because he doesn’t act. (Even in canon, Tarvek wants to _earn_ Agatha’s love, for all that he plans their honeymoon and such. He can dream, after all.) He would rather he be hurt, than Agatha be hurt.
> 
> Of the two, Tarvek is the more emotionally mature, if only by dint of life experience and the fact he’s had to deal with other people’s feelings and thoughts. Those are key to _manipulating_ people after all - but here, instead, he uses those same skills to be very careful and caring of Agatha.


	16. Speaking Simply, Sowing Suspicion, and Snark

Tarvek was gone when Agatha was awakened by a maid serving her breakfast in bed. Krosp was curled against her back, pretending to doze. The midmorning sun fell upon the bed in warm, buttery lozenges.

“Ring for me when you are finished, Milady,” the maid said, curtseying. “I will be outside, in the hall.”

“Where’s Tarvek?” Agatha looked down at the breakfast tray. “Did he eat already?”

“His Highness has, Milady.” The maid smiled, her eyes warming. “His Highness got a message from his guests, and he departed shortly afterward. He has requested that we take care of you this morning, and that you are to be informed that your study materials are prepared.”

 _Oh, right._ Agatha had forgotten about Tarvek seeing off the Circus that morning. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, Milady.” With another curtsey, the maid departed.

Agatha started eating, but with no appetite. Krosp got up, then moved so he was sitting across from her. 

“I’m not Sturmvoraus, but you’ve gotten used to someone sitting across from you at mealtimes.” The big white cat stared at her. “What the hell was that last night, Agatha? You were ready to mate with him - but why? You smelled like you were _hurting.”_ His eyes widened. “Ooooh. You thought he could make you feel good, so you could feel _better_. I see.”

Agatha glared at him, but the flush on her cheeks and the shame she felt couldn’t sustain her anger. She dropped her gaze and nodded once.

“So, why didn’t you? I’ve seen that happen before on Castle Wulfenbach. Girl gets hurt by one guy, runs to another man for comfort.”

“Does it help?” Agatha asked, her voice very small.

“Depends on the people involved.” Krosp shrugged. “Since it’s Sturmvoraus though, I’m not surprised you didn’t. He said he’d protect you, and I suppose that includes protecting you from _yourself.”_

Curling up into a ball of misery would dump the food on the bed, so Agatha resisted the impulse. Instead, she attacked her food with alacrity to try distract herself.

“If it helps any… Wulfenbach threatened to have the Circus people killed if _they_ had been responsible for your death.” Krosp’s tail swished twice behind him as he eyed one of her breakfast sausages. He snatched it up and ate it. “It’s just lucky that the ruse they used was very convincing _and_ they anticipated everything.”

“Yeah, but… if Gil _does_ find out later… then...” Agatha shook her head. “Pix waved it off and said he was just upset and didn’t seem the type to kill a girl in cold blood, but after seeing Tarvek’s scars, I can’t think of anything but his promise to give everyone to that monstrous woman.”

“Why _are_ you so upset anyway? Once you’ve gotten power, and Sturmvoraus seems to really want to help you on that score, you’ll be safe.” Krosp paused. “Sort of. You _will_ have to deal with Wulfenbach again in the future. It’ll be complicated no matter what you do, but at least you’ll hopefully be in a position of strength.”

Agatha took several moments before she decided to answer. “I misjudged him, Krosp. I thought Gil was a _gentle_ man, and… I rather liked him. He was the first person to ever listen to my ideas and take me seriously; he talked to me like I wasn’t useless and broken and he made me feel good about myself.” She nibbled on the croissant, then found herself momentarily distracted by how buttery it was. “I don’t like that so badly misjudged him.”

“So you don’t like it that the guy who you had a crush on, and _maybe_ even are a little in love with might actually be evil? Does that sum it up?” Krosp snagged one of her boiled eggs.

Agatha didn’t bother to glare at him, and simply dipped her head in a nod.

“And what about Sturmvoraus?”

“What does Tarvek have to do with this?” Agatha asked, flushing.

Krosp peeled the egg and ate it in two bites. “You barely knew Wulfenbach, when you stop to think about it objectively for longer than five seconds. You’ve known Sturmvoraus for all of what, four, five days at best? He _wants_ you to like him, so he’ll be putting his best foot forward. Realistically though, even setting aside that he’s the Storm King heir, he’s still been raised to rule and traditionally, he’s even supposed to be your _enemy._ The Sturmvoraus have been trying to defeat your family for the last two hundred years, and they’ve always been strategists and schemers. For all you know, he’s playing along with his father’s schemes to try and get you to fall in love with him while pretending to be against his sire. _Yes_ I know, he’s sworn an oath, and has been visibly keeping it.” The cat held up a paw to forestall her protests. “All I am saying is, you don’t know Sturmvoraus either, even if you _do_ trust him. He may have secrets you won’t like finding out about, just like Wulfenbach. You may need to think about how you’re going to handle that if he does.” Krosp shrugged. “At least, if you break his heart and leave him, Sturmvoraus should know why. You owe him that much at least.”

Agatha nodded after several moments of thinking, and looked at her half-finished breakfast. She sighed and continued eating. _Even… even if Tarvek turns out to be evil after all, I’ll learn._ Guilt soured her stomach and she pushed her food away, even as she remembered Tarvek gently telling her, _I will give you what you need._

“I’m going to take a shower. You can have the rest.” Agatha gently set the tray aside and headed to the bathroom. At least in the shower, she could pretend she wasn’t crying with the feeling of disgust she had at herself, at still being willing to use Tarvek for what he offered… and what she stood to gain.

  
  


⚙

  
  


Lars was not surprised when a small stone bounced off the side of the wagon he was driving. They’d reached the section of road that Prince Tarvek had said he’d meet them at - several hours away from Balan’s Gap.

Zeetha spotted him first - sitting in the upper branches of an old oak as comfortably as he would have been in a parlour, a book in one hand, his face hidden in the shadows of a triangle-brimmed ranger’s hat, his glasses reflecting some light on the pages. Tarvek stood up, and stepped off the branch, as if he were stepping down the top of a flight of stairs, and suddenly stepped out from behind a tree in front of them, strolling toward them as if there was nothing strange in what he’d just done.

“You’re very good at that,” Master Payne observed. “I couldn’t make out what you did to vanish.”

Tarvek smiled, amusement brightening his eyes. “Perhaps when my father disowns me for this I’ll have a chance for an audition at your Circus?”

Master Payne found himself smiling at Tarvek’s cheek. “Perhaps. You are a man of many unusual talents, your Highness.”

“That’s very politely said,” Tarvek laughed. “Others wouldn’t say such nice things about me, I’m afraid.” He looked sideways, completely unfazed by the two Jägermonsters threatening him - Maxim held his sabre across Tarvek’s Adam’s apple, while Ognian had his halberd pressing against the back of Tarvek’s neck. “Greetings. My name is Aaronev Tarvek Sturmvoraus. I would bow, but you’re making that rather impossible.” He slowly raised his hands from his pockets, showing that they were empty.

“Hyu iz a Sturmvoraus, vy iz hyu helping de Mistress?” Dimo asked, melting out of the shadows of a tree, like the other two had. He casually tossed a knife in his hand.

“Would you believe, true love?” Tarvek asked, his tone still light and conversational. “Come now, Dimo, **_in my own way, I serve, and it would bring Agatha nothing but harm if you kill me here.”_ **

Several of the Circus members recoiled in fear at Tarvek’s Spark suddenly rising, command and threat thrumming in his voice. Gone was the urbane young Prince - in his place was a dangerous, deadly creature. Slowly he reached up and adjusted his pince-nez, his madly gleaming eyes fixed on the gold-eyed Jäger. Without taking his eyes off Dimo, he gently pushed Maxim’s blade away from his throat and stepped away from Oggie.

 **_“And she will be quite displeased if you try to deliver my head to her. I’d almost wish to be successfully reanimated if only to say ‘I told you so.’”_ ** Suddenly, Tarvek smiled, snapping back to his polite, charming Prince self so abruptly, it was _more_ terrifying than his sudden descent into Spark fugue. “Fortunately for both you and me, we will _not_ be doing something so foolish, correct? Let us be off now, because we have some distance to go and I still have to return to Sturmhalten. Even if I ran all the way back it’ll take me an hour and a half to get there.”

Tarvek bowed to Master Payne. “The next time we meet, Agatha will be with me, by my word. Hopefully I can take more time to reassure Moxana then. Journey lightly.” Without waiting, the young Prince turned and strode off into the forest.

Payne looked at Zeetha and Lars. “That,” he said heavily, “is the most dangerous Spark I have ever met in my life. I have _never_ heard of a Spark who can drop out of the Madness the way he just did.”

“Hyu iz right about det,” Dimo agreed, rubbing his chin. “Hy think he knew ve vas watching hyu last night. Det is vy he pulled hiz fency-schmenzy assassin tricks.”

“Assassin?” Lars wished his voice hadn’t squeaked on the word.

“Ho hyez. De Storm King, he hed dem, end dey move jest like det Sturmvoraus keed - only, det keed, he is verra, verra gut.” Maxim grinned. “Hy like heem. He’s not scared ov us. End he has gut taste in hats.”

“Vell,” Oggie demurred. “Ve vas not tryink hard to scare heem.”

“You two be careful,” Countess Marie said. “We’ll see you in Mechanicsburg.”

Leading the horses and mules with their burdens carefully through the underbrush, they eventually found Tarvek sitting on a boulder, reading again, five minutes from the road proper. To Zeetha’s surprise, he was reading a murder-mystery pfennig-sparkly.

“I thought you’d be all over Van Rijn’s notes,” she remarked as she mounted her horse. “Agatha was.”

“I confess to being eager to have a look, but as the book is Agatha’s, I will wait until she gives me permission.” Tarvek put a maple leaf in the book to mark his spot, and tucked the book into his coat pocket. Gracefully he rose to his feet and strode away, hands in his pockets, as if he were strolling leisurely through a city street. The Jägers sloped after him.

Lars made himself ride up to Tarvek. No matter how hard he looked, the Prince did not strike him as an assassin. _I just can’t see it. He looks too soft._

Tarvek glanced up at him. “I can almost feel your burning questions trying to set my hat on fire.”

“Are you really an assassin?” Lars blurted.

“No.” Tarvek seemed unsurprised by the question. “I made a point of failing the lessons. I don’t particularly want _skilled_ assassins to come after _me.”_

Lars blinked. The reasoning sounded sensible, but there was something slightly off about it that made him wonder what Tarvek wasn’t saying. “Have you killed anyone?”

“Yes.” The flat way that Tarvek said it did not invite further conversation.

“How many?”

“I don’t remember.”

 _Translation: More than I can_ care _to remember,_ Lars thought with a shiver.

Tarvek sighed. “If it helps at all, a great majority of the ones who fell at my hands deserved it. I don’t want you so terrified of me that you become useless to Agatha should your help be needed.”

“That would sound more reassuring if I could actually see your face,” Lars replied tightly, gritting his teeth at the insinuation that he was afraid of Tarvek. He’d never admit that the sudden drop into the Madness had triggered all of Lars’ flee-or-die instincts.

“I need the hat.” The young Prince pulled his hands out of his coat pockets and held them up, emphasizing his pale skin. “I tend to burn in the summer. It’s annoying, and itchy. One of the unfortunate things about being a redhead.”

“Along with the whole not having a soul?”

Lars couldn’t see, but he was certain Tarvek rolled his eyes. “Such has been my reputation. Four eyes, redheaded, _definitely_ no soul. Soul-sucking Sturmvoraus, watch out for _him.”_ Tarvek’s tone was rippingly sarcastic as he jabbed his hands back into his greatcoat pockets.

Even though he hadn’t been the one to say the insults, Lars suddenly felt bad for having led the conversation that way. “Sorry. I was only trying to joke around.”

Tarvek dismissed it away as unimportant with a shake of his head. “Nothing I haven’t heard a thousand times before. Forget about it.” He sounded weary, but picked up his stride and was meters away before Lars could say another word.

Zeetha rode up next to him, glaring. “Are you quite done antagonising the man? I know you’re jealous, but you’re becoming _very_ stupid about the whole thing. Suicidal even. We’re out here, on our own, and if he decided to drop you off a cliff, nobody would find your body but the vultures. If you can’t behave, go catch up to Master Payne and we’ll see you in Mechanicsburg!”

Lars glared back. “I’m staying. I can’t help it - I _don’t_ trust him as far as I can throw him. And okay, I’m being a jealous ass, but he -”

“Is being far more polite to you than you are to him.” Zeetha hissed. “If nothing else, you’re definitely proving that commoners _haven’t_ got basic manners! What does Sturmvoraus have to do to prove he’s on Agatha’s side?”

“Actually bringing her out.”

“Do you think _you’ll_ be patient enough to wait that long? We _have_ to let the Circus get a head start and away before Agatha escapes. Zeetha snorted. “And when he comes with us? If Sturmvoraus really is as powerful a Spark and as dangerous as Master Payne thinks, Agatha is going to need his skills and knowledge to help her. From what I hear, her family’s hereditary Castle is destroyed, and he could be useful to her.”

“Hoh, hyez, det Sturmvoraus fella, he’s a schmott guy, a strong vun,” Dimo said, riding up to them. The horses, no longer unsettled by the Jägers’ scent, had finally allowed them to mount. Oggie was leading the three mules, and Maxim brought up the rear. “Und de Mistress vill definitely need as meny uf dem as she ken get to help.” He shrugged. “Eets a bit uv a fixer-upper.”

  
  


⚙

  
  


The cave that Tarvek brought them to was spacious and multi-chambered - and clearly had only ever been used by Tarvek himself as some form of private retreat. A narrow army standard canvas cot was set inside an alcove and a moss-covered tarp served as camouflage for it. A chest served as the headboard, and a narrow bookshelf sat at the end of the cot, with a random sundry of books filling it. The small laboratory that occupied one of the caves further into the back of the large main cavern room was not a surprise; the small waterfall that occupied one part of it was, with a curious looking device that seemed to filter water catching some of it. On the opposite end was another opening that led further down the slope of the mountain, which opened up near a stream; this was suggested by Tarvek to be a good place to use as a makeshift stable; tree roots, moss and bushes that he had encouraged to grow there hid that entrance as well. Because of the proximity to the stream, this was where a rude cooking area had been set up. A sack of potatoes leaned to one side of the carefully piled river stones shaped somewhat like an oven, and a box of salt sat on the natural shelf behind it.

What they did _not_ expect was the armoury of weapons that was hidden behind a cleverly painted cloth. This cavern held row upon row of spears, enough swords to outfit an army kept in barrels, knives and daggers of every type, shape and size imaginable, a small assortment of maces, enough pistols and rifles and compatible ammunition to equip a regiment, and a range of short bows with quivers of arrows to suit. Several straw and canvas effigies were stacked in a small alcove, with stands. A worktable with neatly arranged tools sat along one wall, with a bench. A shelf with more general supplies bracketed the table; it was here that Tarvek went to.

Tarvek took out a number of oil lamps and quietly lit them as the Jägers explored - and checked the place for hidden dangers. When he came to the fourth lamp he frowned as he lifted it, and found it empty of oil. He reached for the waxed cask that sat on the shelf, and patiently refilled the oil well.

Zeetha watched him, leaning against the cave wall. “You stay here often?”

Tarvek shook his head. “This is where I practice my fighting skills. As I told Lars, and am sure you overheard, I deliberately failed the lessons in fighting - and why.” He replaced the glass after lighting the wick, and handed her his firestarter. “Keep that. I can get another. I will try to return sometime soon and replace the lamp oil supply. It might be late in the night, so I apologise.”

“You might have failed the lessons, but you were paying attention after all, weren’t you? You move with a _warrior’s_ grace, not an athlete’s.”

Tarvek smiled ruefully. “If you can tell the difference, I will have to work harder on that.” He started hanging the lanterns on strategically and carefully measured distanced hooks, which meant the cave was lit in a way that allowed them to see without straining their eyes - even read, if they wanted - but the light was dim enough that the curtains of moss and vines would conceal it.

“It would be fun to spar with you,” Zeetha said speculatively.

“Not anytime soon. I must conserve all my energy at present. Perhaps in the future, however.”

“Maybe,” Zeetha grinned, pleased that he hadn’t dismissed the idea out of hand. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten soft and it would be nice to get into a proper spar with someone good.”

Tarvek hung up the last lamp, and bowed. “You flatter me, Princess.”

“Hyu haff plenty uf knives,” Dimo said, juggling three as he approached. “Hyu mind if I get some?”

“Help yourself. The ones in the armoury there are not poisoned.” Tarvek inclined his head. “There’s sharpening tools and other common maintenance items in there as well. If there is anything else you need or require, let me know and I shall attempt to obtain it.” He looked at the sleeping alcove and then at Zeetha. “Feel free to use that little area to sleep in, your Highness. It’s more comfortable than the cavern floor, and grants some privacy. I’m afraid I never set this place up for anyone but myself, so I apologise for the inadequacies.

Lars came out of the tunnel that led to the stream. “If we can set snares for game or hunt, that would do well for our food supplies.”

“Go ahead and set snares but I wouldn’t take more than medium sized game,” Tarvek replied. “There are some folk who hunt larger, not just for the palace tables, so keep track of big game.”

Lars looked at him, clearly making the effort not to be rude. “Thank you.”

The young Prince nodded. “Try to keep out of sight as much as possible during the daytime. I’ll try to come back as much as possible, but my duties might take me away, so do not be alarmed if I don’t for a few days. Also, this cave does lead back to Sturmhalten and its dungeons, but it _also_ leads to the massive labyrinthine cavern complex we call the Deep Down. Even _I_ haven’t explored all of it; I don’t think anyone has. I would _not_ advise trying to follow me; because there’s a very good chance of being lost there for good, and then what will Agatha think?” He shook his head. “No, it would be best to wait here. I know it’ll be rather boring. The only thing I recommend staying out of is the lab; though the filtration system I made there makes perfectly safe drinking water. Just don’t touch anything else. I didn’t label which were my poisons and which were my antidotes, in case someone stumbled in here. It’s only luck someone hasn’t, really.” 

He looked up, as if trying to see if he’d missed anything on a mental checklist. “Anyway, try to make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be back with the lamp oil when I’m able to obtain some. Good day.” With that, Tarvek inclined his head and walked deeper into the caves. He vanished down one that had a barrel of spears at the entrance - and seemed to actually disappear.

Lars looked at Zeetha after Tarvek had left. “You’re not seriously going to listen to him, are you? This is a chance.”

Zeetha shrugged. “Sure. Let’s see what happens.”

Lars snagged one of the lanterns and followed down the tunnel that Tarvek had gone into, moving as quietly as he could, Zeetha following in his wake. After fifteen minutes of walking down a tunnel that was sizeable enough to be ridden in with a horse, they stepped out into a larger cavern from which several openings and crevices branched off.

The openings were marked by boards of wood lying just inside them, with writing elegantly painted on. Lars growled as he read them one by one.

_I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. Fine. This cave loops back here. Test this first. You’ll find I am telling the truth._

_Still not enough? This one is collapsed 155 paces in._

_Oh very well, let’s play the game. Ravine too wide to cross. Sounds like there are monsters at the bottom. Have fun! No, really, turn back._

_Persistence in this case only results in frustration. Found skeletons of a lost adventuring party this way. No obvious cause of death found, so if you go down this way, good luck to you._

_Still don’t trust me? Alright then. Heavily sealed lab doors found at the end. Nauseating smell emanates from the very stone, which glows purple. Did not have equipment for further investigation. If you survive, I am curious as to what is in there._

_In the event that you won’t listen: Acid-spitting monsters this way! I blew this cavern up, but I can’t guarantee I got them all._

_Lastly: Leads to a giant cavern complex that I haven’t had the time to fully explore. Don’t get lost!_

Three of the passages were marked “Unexplored, try to survive and make a map.”

“Is he mocking us?” Lars snarled, and looked to see Zeetha reading another plank.

“No, he’s mocking _you,”_ Zeetha replied with a snicker. “Frankly, you deserved this.” She held out the last plank.

_Well, hopefully you haven’t gotten yourself and your companions killed, Herr Lars. This is the cave that goes back to the hideout. I suppose I shall see at our next meeting whether or not you need prosthetic limbs or new eyes or something. Before you head back, take all the planks and use them for firewood. -T.S._

“So, do you want to test out the first cave, to see if he’s telling the truth?”

Lars growled again. “I am not giving him the satisfaction, so no.” He swept past Zeetha, muttering. His mood did not improve when Zeetha returned to the hideout with the planks of wood, which they used to cook their dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krosp really has a way of putting it that helps and doesn't help at the same time, doesn't he?


	17. Paperwork, Pain and Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because Tarvek's a Prince doesn't mean he doesn't have work.

Agatha looked up as Tarvek entered the study. He’d returned while she’d been in the shower, and dropped off the rucksack that Zeetha had prepared for her, and left again before she’d been able to get out. For a few moments she’d thought he was avoiding her, before scolding herself for the thought. She tried to smile, which made Tarvek stop several paces away. Agatha felt a low throb of pain in her breast when he folded his arms behind his back and adopted his polite gentleman’s mask.

“Did you have everything you asked for in the bag?”

“Yes. Thank you for bringing it.” Agatha scrambled for more polite small talk. “How was the Circus?”

“They’re on their way,” Tarvek replied, sitting down at his side of the table with a weary sigh. “I paid them to make sure they don’t delay or do more than overnight shows, so that they get to Mechanicsburg as soon as possible. Master Payne said it was plenty but I feel like I should have made it even higher, since I’m trying to rush them away from here as fast as possible.”

The chuckle that bubbled out of Agatha made him raise his eyebrows. “You… really don’t think about money much, do you?”

Tarvek flinched. “I thought I was doing a kindness,” he murmured. “Did I overstep my bounds? If so, I’m sorry for being mistaken.”

Agatha’s jaw dropped, surprised at the hurt that flashed across his face before he shuttered it away. “Tarvek… you  _ did _ do them a great kindness. I’m honestly gobsmacked at how generous you’ve been to the Circus.”

“Mmm, there were  _ practical _ reasons for wanting that their wagons were in good repair and their supplies replenished, so I made sure it happened.” Tarvek shrugged. “The money means nothing to me; it’s merely a means to an end. The faster they are able to get away, the greater the distance they are able to put themselves from Sturmhalten, and the sooner you can escape, that’s all. It’s useful for that.”

_ Useful. _ This time it was Agatha who flinched. “Not everything you do has to be ‘useful’, Tarvek,” she snapped.

Krosp eyed her, waving his tail, and she blushed. He looked at Tarvek and sighed. “Okay, you two. What’s chewing your tails now? What happened while you were out there, your Majesty?”

Again, Tarvek shrugged. “Not much. The Jägers threatened me as expected, to find out my intentions, I didn’t back down, scared everyone in the process, and I suppose that raised my stock in the eyes of the Jägers.”

The big white cat eyed him shrewdly. “And what did Lars say?”

“Well, he  _ still _ doesn’t like me, which is fine and understandable. That’s  _ not _ the problem. I’m having to hold back quite a few of my reflexive responses given how overtly hostile he is, and I suppose that’s making me cranky. My apologies, Agatha, I didn’t mean for it to come out at you.” Tarvek let out an aggravated breath. “For someone who  _ supposedly _ has a very strong sense for danger, he’s going out of his way to push all my ‘kill him’ buttons - and not because he’s rude. He makes the space between my shoulder blades itch.”

Agatha buried her face in her hands. “I’ll write to him-”

“That will make it  _ worse, _ because it will seem like you’re siding with Sturmvoraus,” Krosp pointed out. “I’m guessing Lars is already all sorts of insecure given that when it comes to measuring up to his Majesty here, he falls short, especially when it comes to wealth and taste, hm?”

Tarvek huffed out a laugh as Agatha sputtered. “I am  _ not _ a gold-digging mercenary!” She turned to Tarvek. “I’m  _ not!” _

“You’re not, no. And it’s not something anyone  _ should _ accuse you of given that this was done entirely on my own. If anyone dares, I’ll fight them.” Tarvek smiled, and this time the smile reached his eyes. “But perhaps yes, my show of wealth, as beneficial as it was to them, probably didn’t sit well with Herr Lars. I have to say, he’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it, because as I said, it is meant to benefit Agatha later.” Suddenly, he straightened and leaned over the table to look at what Agatha had been reading. “Certainly, we’ll have to make sure we’re better prepared going into the red-marked areas-”

His sudden change in speech was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Highness? I have the day’s work.”

“Come in, Artacz,” Tarvek called out, upon which the door opened to admit his father’s secretary, followed by two footmen carrying piles of documents, both in folder and scroll formats, causing Tarvek to frown. “That doesn’t look like a day’s work, that looks more like a  _ week’s _ work.”

“Her Highness is currently at a crucial stage in her current project, Master Tarvek,” the secretary looked apologetic. “I’m afraid these couldn’t be delayed any longer.”

“I see. Here, put them down here…” Tarvek got up, picked up a pile of the books he was supposed to sort for Agatha’s reading, and put them aside on top of some other notes. “It may take quite a bit to catch up, so I might take the evening meal in here.”

“Very well, your Highness.”

“I’ll do the same, if it’s alright,” Agatha added.

“Of course, my Lady,” Artacz bowed, and departed.

Tarvek immediately reached for the first folder and flipped it open. He sighed. “Most of these are just things that Anevka couldn’t be bothered to do, it seems.” With resignation firmly stamped on his features, he pulled open a drawer, took out an ink stamp and stamped the page. He then set the folder aside and picked up the next one. “Hm, this one is actually for me.”

Krosp looked. “Improved sewage drainage reports?”

“Yeah. That was last year’s urban improvement project.” Tarvek grinned. “Now you know how I know how  _ awful _ it smells down there.”

Agatha made a face. “You do a lot of that?”

“Balan’s Gap is old, and well, there hadn’t been a review of the sewers since Father was young. There aren’t as  _ many _ escaped experiments down there anymore - the giant albino alligators are  _ mostly _ hunted out - but there are still plenty of areas in the Deepdown that are sealed off. The Sturmhalten Sewer Rats keep me appraised with reports every quarter, and there was a flood a few years ago that resulted in quite a bit of debris clogging things up down there. We had to burn out entire sections with flamethrowers and a few other things I had to invent.” Tarvek wrote out a reply, then signed and stamped it before setting it aside.

“Still, not really something one would expect a Crown Prince to do,” Agatha leaned on her hand. “Or was that a punishment for something?”

Laughing, Tarvek stamped another document. “Father felt that if I was so keen on improving things, I could do so  _ far away _ from him. Unleashing me on our demesne has kept me ever so busy. On the upside, if I do not become Storm King, I have plenty of projects to keep me occupied for the rest of my life. Ours is not a huge principality compared to some others, but it is certainly a  _ busy _ one.”

“If everything is Sparkwork though, it will be difficult to maintain after you’ve passed,” Krosp observed.

“Which is why a good seventy-five percent of what I  _ do _ implement isn’t Sparkwork, and I have detailed manuals readily available.”

“Can most of your vassals even read?”

“Hopefully, at least seventy-eight percent of them should be able to. I had a basic curriculum created ten years ago; reading, writing, arithmetic, just up to division and multiplication, some basic civics, law - so they know both Empire law and local laws - basic first aid, and such, and since Father saw the benefits I outlined, he decided to pass a law requiring this minimum level of education, which can be also handwaved as being part of Klaus Wulfenbach’s own efforts at raising educational standards in Europa.” Tarvek stood up and pulled down a pair of clothbound hardbacks from a shelf behind him. “Things that most folks would not be overly opposed to knowing. I’ve a cultural supplement compiled as well; a potted local and recent history, some folklore, music, some traditional recipes.” He placed them on the desk and sat down. “With the raising of knowledge to at least somewhat literate, a nice fringe benefit is, at least within our domain, Sparks are becoming slightly  _ less _ hunted. Unfortunately there’s the  _ usual _ problems with Breakthroughs.”

“Right.” Krosp leafed through the primer. “How old were you when you did this? It’s pretty impressive.”

“Twelve, I think?” Tarvek shrugged, looking a little shy. “It’s not really  _ hard _ to compile already existing lessons or simplifying them. I intended this to be something that you could give to isolated farmsteads and they could do the lessons at their own pace.” He gently patted the supplementary volume. “It kept me busy through the winter, so I hope it’s useful to some folks out there.”

Agatha looked at him with a strange expression, then turned to Krosp. “Could you give us a few minutes alone, please?”

Krosp eyed them both, then shrugged. “I think I’d like a look at your potted history anyway.” The white cat picked up the second volume and headed out to the drawing room, closing the door behind him.

Tarvek capped his fountain pen and set it aside, looking troubled. “I won’t apologise for my reaction to Lars’ hostility. I am not in the habit of leaving people who want me dead and are in close proximity to my back  _ alive. _ In fact, it will take a lot of self control on my part if he attacks me, even as a show of -”

“That’s… that’s not why I wanted to talk to you, Tarvek.” Agatha took a deep breath. “It’s related to last night.” 

Tarvek sat back, and nodded, bracing himself for whatever she had to say.

Agatha looked at his expression with anguish. “Please don’t  _ do _ that. Please don’t look like you’re expecting me to discard you like a… an empty paper bag of sweets.”

“I… I don’t know what to expect, honestly. I’ve been in the habit of preparing for the worst all the time - it’s simply how I am, and it’s helped me survive all these years.” Tarvek looked away. “And it is unfair to ask me not to do that in your case, when I am not your suitor, nor your lover, and merely your friend. You know how I feel, but  _ if _ you wish for me to be nothing but your friend… when you make that decision I  _ must _ be prepared to set aside my feelings of romantic and passionate love for you. To hold on to them when they are not wanted is… unkind to both of us.”

“I  _ haven’t _ decided yet!” Agatha exclaimed. “Why are you talking as if I’ve decided?”

At that, Tarvek blinked and looked back at her again, confusion writ on his expression. “I said ‘if,’ Agatha. I know you haven’t decided yet. But you  _ will _ decide eventually, and I can’t  _ assume _ you’ll choose me. That would be presumptuous of me.”

Agatha stared, then ran over what Tarvek had said in her head. “...You’re right. You  _ did _ say ‘if.’' She slumped down until she was facedown on the desk. “This is because of my guilty conscience, isn’t it?”

Tarvek half rose from his chair, concerned. “Agatha…? What’s the mat- _ yiii!” _ He flinched back as Agatha whipped herself upright again, almost clocking Tarvek in the chin. 

To his astonishment, she leaned across the table. “I  _ don’t _ want to use you!”

Tarvek’s eyes were huge, baffled. “...I thought we established that last night?”

Agatha flushed red. “That’s - no, I mean,  _ besides _ for… for  _ that,  _ I don’t want to use you at  _ all!” _

She watched as Tarvek tilted his head, reminding her yet again of a fox, this time looking at her with utter confusion. 

Finally, he said, “I do not understand.”

Agatha rubbed her temples. “Maybe it’s because I feel bad for last night still… and I do feel bad for wanting to use you in that manner. But I realised today that I  _ am _ using you to help myself.”

Tarvek looked even more bewildered. “Technically, if by ‘using me’, you’re talking about the knowledge and study of the damage of Castle Heterodyne, we’re  _ both _ doing this under my father’s express  _ command. _ Studying technical journals and books that I have isn’t an obligation upon myself either; I thought it simply enjoyable to share them with you; your learning something from it is a benefit, but not the main reason why I shared them. Same with the access to my labs.” He suddenly looked distraught. “I wasn’t thinking, was I? I  _ presumed… _ ”

Agatha felt like the ground under her had turned into loose, crumbling sand. “No! You did  _ not _ presume  _ anything _ because I did enjoy all of that!”

“Then what  _ are _ you talking about?”

“I haven’t been able to do  _ anything _ for you to help you!” Agatha burst out.

“But… you have? A lot?” Tarvek’s brow furrowed. “You helped me with the brine and oil formula that I use for the heating system the first night you were here. You helped with building the test heating system and increased the efficiency of the prototype. You warned me to be careful of Zeetha. You helped me get parts to build you a death ray. And how could you  _ possibly _ discount the help you’ve given me with repairing  _ Tinka?” _ The last was an exclamation of indignation. “You’ve been  _ positively brilliant _ and I don’t know where you’re getting the idea that you’ve been no help whatsoever!”

“You’re one to talk!” Agatha retorted, stung and at the same time pleased that he valued her help so much. “You keep talking as if nobody wants you unless you’re  _ useful _ to them!”

“What’s wrong with being useful, exactly?” He looked at her. “If this is about the money I spent to get your friends in the Circus out of here, I told you it’s not important to me in the least, it’s just a tool, no different from a spanner, or gear lubricant.”

“I don’t want to be your friend because you’re ‘useful’ to me, Tarvek, I want to be your friend because I  _ care!” _ Agatha snapped.

“Does that mean you’ll  _ stop _ being my friend because I  _ am _ useful to you?” Tarvek demanded, truly confused, and becoming frustrated because of it. “Because through no fault of my own, I  _ am _ useful to you and I am  _ exactly _ what you need to help you not just escape, but also to fix your ancestral home!”

“I’m  _ not _ going to stop being your friend because -  _ argh _ why is this just getting worse and worse?!” Agatha grabbed at her hair in frustration, and pulled. It seemed to help her focus, because the little quiet Zeetha-like voice in her head spoke.

_ You aren’t telling him you’re afraid Krosp is right, and that Tarvek is really evil and just using you for his own ends. You’re refusing to tell him because you know your suspicions are unjustified and thinking this - especially when he keeps saying that he isn’t a good person - is likely to hurt him badly. You have hurt him enough, don’t you think? _

_ “Stop that!” _ Tarvek firmly grabbed her wrists. He pressed his thumbs against certain spots in her wrists and her hands popped open. “I don’t know what’s going on or upsetting you, but don’t  _ hurt yourself!”  _ His grip gentled enough that if she wanted to, Agatha could have pulled away.

She didn’t.

Genuinely distressed, Tarvek turned over her hands and removed the few strands of golden hair tangled between her fingers. “What did I do wrong, Agatha? Tell me, and I won’t do it again since it upsets you this much.  _ Nothing _ you’ve told me so far makes sense. I don’t understand, I really don’t. If you do consider me your friend, why is my being useful to you so awful? I only want to help…” he trailed off, seemed to remember something and looked sadly away. “Ah.”

_ What do you mean, ‘ah’?! Nonononono, whatever you think it is, it’s probably wrong! _ Agatha thought, anxiety skittering up her spine at Tarvek’s expression. “What… what are you…”

Tarvek let go of her and stepped back, not quite able to hide the wounded brightness of his eyes. “I used to think helping one’s friends was something… friends  _ do _ for each other. But I really don’t have much experience in that, now do I? I tried to help Gilgamesh and he betrayed me because of it. And Violetta…” he shook his head. “I’m not sure how I can  _ stop _ helping you now, Agatha, because the alternative is you being caged here forever… and being forced to marry me. I can’t… I  _ won’t _ do that to you.” Tarvek looked at her, and took another step back. “I will get you out of here, but I won’t accompany you to Mechanicsburg if-”

“What?  _ No!” _ Agatha blurted, briefly wondering who ‘Violetta’ was. “I  _ want _ you to come with me!”

“But why?” The look on Tarvek’s face was that of a bewildered young boy, who had been punished for helping someone he cared for. And he  _ had _ been, Agatha remembered.

“Because-” Agatha stepped toward him, and was horrified when he backed away like a wounded animal.  _ No! What have I done?! How could I be so self-absorbed and forget that he has scars related to Gilgamesh too, deeper ones than I can claim? He’s done nothing wrong and I’m acting like he  _ has!  _ No wonder Tarvek is thinking the way he is now! _

Agatha knew that if Tarvek fled, there would be no fixing the misunderstanding that lay between them, especially since it really did sound like she was rejecting him from his point of view. Even if he did come and help her with the Castle, she knew with absolute certainty that he would leave when she was established and she would never see the Tarvek that played the spinet for her ever again. That facet of himself, the  _ real _ Tarvek that he had so shyly revealed to her, he would quietly murder and bury, and the thought of him never again allowing himself the joy of feeling the way he did when Tarvek composed that tender song for her hurt and terrified Agatha more than anything she could think of right then.

So she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Agatha clung to him as tightly as she could, so Tarvek wouldn’t be able to escape - both the man, and the hurt and lonely boy that still lived within him. Tarvek staggered back against the table. “I want you to come with me  _ because _ you’re my friend and I care! I  _ like _ having you around, and not because you’re useful, but because it’s  _ fun _ to have you around, especially when we’re talking science and you’ve been nothing but wonderful and I’m being so unfair and I’m  _ sorry!” _

When Tarvek didn’t respond, she looked up. He seemed to be flushed, but also concentrating on breathing, head tipped up and away. “Tarvek?”

He gently tapped her arm.

Realising that she was effectively keeping Tarvek from taking more than very shallow breaths, Agatha loosened her grip. He sighed in relief then looked down at her. Tarvek’s breath whooshed out as Agatha, with a wail of frustration, both hugged him tighter again and whacked her forehead against his sternum. He fell backward onto the table, somehow managing to avoid the stacks of paperwork. 

“Ow.”

“Why am I so  _ clumsy _ around you?!” Agatha complained. “I don’t even have the  _ locket _ to blame for being this stupid about you!”

“Agatha, please, I’m flexible but this is wreaking merry havoc to the muscles in my lower back and left hip…” Tarvek whispered, his voice strained.

“Eeep!” Agatha pushed herself off him, then slouched in her chair when the backs of her legs hit it. She watched as Tarvek gingerly pushed himself upright again, looking rather rumpled.

For several moments, they stared at each other, then Tarvek adjusted his pince-nez.

“So… if I understand this correctly, you’re… upset with me because I’m useful, but don’t want to stop being friends with me because I  _ am _ useful and…” he frowned thoughtfully, and in a way that made Agatha nervous at what conclusion he was going to come to  _ this _ time. Tarvek looked at her very uncomfortably.  _ “Please _ don’t hit me for my impertinence but… if you are in need of female monthly supplies, you  _ can _ ask the maids for some. I am familiar with such things, but it may be more comfortable for you to ask another woman…”

Agatha stared at him, a blush creeping up her neck. “Why would you come to  _ that _ conclusion?!”

“Anevka… She has a day every month where she demands things of me and sometimes is furious at me for no particular reason I can discern. I eventually worked out that she did so exactly three days before her monthly cycle. I overheard some of the maids talking.” Tarvek replied. “I’m aware that not all women do so, but her example is why I ask. It is a possibility?”

“You _don’t_ think it’s gross?” Agatha found herself asking.

“No. Why should I? It’s a function of the mature body, no different from my growing facial hair and needing to shave.” Tarvek looked truly confused. “It’s generally not something most ladies would discuss with a man, but I  _ am _ a doctor… it’s not improper for even  _ male _ doctors to know about that.”

“..Point taken.”

“Agatha.” The way he said her name made Agatha meet Tarvek’s gaze. “I am somehow the cause of your unhappiness, despite what you say - something I did, or said wrong. I don’t know what it is, and cannot make amends unless I know.”

“You didn’t do or say anything wrong.” Agatha sighed. “In fact, you’ve been so  _ amazing _ that I… I feel like I’m abusing your goodwill.”

“So, perhaps you mistrust my motivations again, or something?” Tarvek blinked when Agatha suddenly flinched, a guilty expression on her face. When she turned to look at him, Tarvek only had a soft smile on his face. “That, at least, I  _ can _ understand.”

“Why?!”

“Because trusting someone… in my world… is a weakness, a vulnerability. It isn’t uncommon for doubts to kick in after a while.  _ That’s _ why you’ve suddenly become unhappy with my being ‘useful’ to you.” Tarvek shrugged, accepting this as a given. “I can only continue on as I have, as I have sworn to you, Agatha. I will always be your ally even if… even if you-”

“I already said I want you to come with me!” Agatha growled.

“- don’t trust me.”

“I  _ trust _ you!” Agatha burst out.

“Only about some things, I gather. That’s alright.” Tarvek said gently. “I suppose I will just have to work harder.”

“You don’t have any dark secrets or something like that, do you?” Agatha gave up and just asked him outright. “Because  _ that’s _ what has me all tied into knots worrying that it might be something I can’t handle. There! I said it.”

Tarvek stared at her, confused all over again. “I don’t understand. By whose measure? What exactly would count as a  _ dark _ secret?  _ Everyone _ has secrets, or things that they generally don’t want other people to know.” He sighed. “For example, I rather wish I had  _ known _ that the folks at the Circus  _ hadn’t _ known about your being the Heterodyne heir, but I was luckily able to adapt smoothly. Zeetha didn’t seem very surprised, but Lars was absolutely gobsmacked. If I  _ had _ known though, I would have come up with a different story.”

Agatha stared at him. “Wait. I  _ didn’t _ tell you to use my former name?”

Tarvek shook his head. “Zeetha had figured out some of it, because of the Jägers following you around. I think Master Payne and Countess Marie had an idea as well.”

Agatha groaned. “I can’t believe that I forgot. Idiot!”

“...A lot happened that morning; it’s understandable. My point is, being a secret Heterodyne heir is just as dark and as deadly a secret as my being Storm King is, you see? So you yourself have a dark secret.” 

“I’m being grossly unfair again, aren’t I?” Agatha groaned, despising her hypocrisy.

“A little.” Tarvek tapped the side of his fist against his lips as he thought about Agatha’s question. After several moments he looked worried. “It’s… not  _ exactly  _ a secret, but I’m not proud of something I’ve done that was necessary.”

“What is it?”

“I suppose that it’s not really something most folks think about, but I used to have a bodyguard.” Tarvek looked sad. “She’s a cousin from one of the cadet branches of the family. Violetta’s her name. She was trained to protect me from birth, and well, she and I were raised together. She’s only a little younger than I am, so we were almost like twin siblings. Long story short, she was badly injured during an assassination attempt and I realised I…  _ didn’t _ want her to die for me. I couldn’t bear it.” 

Agatha watched as Tarvek replayed the memories in his head. “The proposal for the Fake Heterodyne idea happened shortly after that, and my rejection of the plan was, to put it mildly, vehement. We don’t know  _ how _ Castle Heterodyne, or Mechanicsburg as a whole even  _ recognise _ the next Heterodyne, but my studies have indicated it’s not as simple as a genealogy.”

“How vehement were you?” Agatha asked, curious despite herself.

“I said a brain-cored squirrel with attention span issues would have rejected the idea within five seconds as suicidally stupid.” Tarvek looked serious. “Mechanicsburg has  _ had _ many claimants to be Lost Heterodynes over the years.  _ Not a single one of them has made it out alive. _ Whatever test they use to prove a Heterodyne, it’s foolproof.”

“So, what happened? With Violetta?”

“Well, even though  _ I _ am the legitimate heir, there are those who have lesser claims. If I die, their claim becomes ascendant and if they succeed in having the false Heterodyne Girl somehow recognised, well, then they’re the Storm King.” Tarvek scowled. “Quite honestly, you wouldn’t  _ want _ my other cousins anywhere near the Throne of Lightning. At any rate, my cousins saw an opportunity - and the assassination attempts increased. Leopold is especially desperate, as he’s much older than Martellus and myself. Most of the attempts on my life lately are from him. I took the opportunity and faked a near success on my life; and blamed Violetta in the process; she was denigrated by me as incompetent. As punishment, she was cashiered to a post in Mechanicsburg as the Burgermeister’s secretary.”

Tarvek looked at Agatha with pain-filled eyes. “I’ll never forget the look on Violetta’s face the day I betrayed her. But… even if she hates me now, she’s alive and she’s safe and…”

_ \- “Oi, Tarvek, you useless moron, you forgot your notes again!” - _

“...That’s what’s most important.”

Agatha was up and moving even before he finished talking, hugging him tight. “Idiot.”

_ “How _ am I the idiot now?”

“Did you ever think about how she might have felt, knowing you nearly got killed, as far as she knows?”

“I  _ know _ how she felt. She cried at my bedside for three nights and refused to leave my side! I had to pretend I was unconscious the whole time as she apologised when all I wanted to do myself was to hug her and apologise!” Tarvek took Agatha by the shoulders and pushed her away enough so she could see his face. “I had to do it, or she’d be  _ dead _ now! She wasn’t very good at being a Smoke Knight, but she was  _ determined, _ even though she hated the whole thing, to  _ protect _ me. But I  _ betrayed _ her. To keep her safe and alive! I hope she’ll hate me for years and years to come.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and stared at her. “I won’t… I won’t betray you, should something like that come to pass. I’ll find another way.”

_ Ah. That’s it. That’s what annoys me, _ Agatha realised. She reminded herself not to shout at him as she placed her hands on top of Tarvek’s - she’d yelled at him enough already. “Of course you won’t. We’ll be working on it together, and you’re  _ still _ an idiot for not  _ asking me for help.” _

Tarvek stared at her, pleased that she still wanted to have him at her side and working with her, and stung that Agatha was still calling him an idiot for a reason he couldn’t discern.

“Maybe… maybe that’s it, Tarvek. Maybe I’ll feel better about working  _ with _ you instead of simply accepting your help. We’re in this together. You’re not alone anymore, and you don’t have to do everything yourself.” Agatha very deliberately knit her left hand’s fingers with his in a way that displayed the ring on her finger. “So… ask me for help. Even for little things?” She leaned against him. “Alright?”

“Very well.” Tarvek caressed his thumb over the back of hers. “Perhaps you can apply some of the oils and lotions on my shoulders tonight… and help me with some of the paperwork that only needs a stamp of acknowledgement?”

Agatha brightened. “I used to be Dr. Beetle’s assistant, so I can definitely work in that capacity.”

Tarvek gently rearranged her so that his arm was wrapped around her, without ever letting go of her hand. “Agatha… I… I know you cared - if not  _ still _ care - for Gilgamesh deeply. Maybe he’s even your first love. Those feelings aren’t going to be easy to let go of, even knowing  _ now _ what you do about him. Don’t just rush into forgetting - not because of him, but because these feelings were important to  _ you. _ It’ll take time to let the wounds scab and heal - if you’re lucky there won’t be much of a scar. But it’ll hurt in the doing, so if you need to cry… you can.”

Agatha looked up at Tarvek. “...You really cared for him too, didn’t you?”

“Yes. He  _ was _ my first and best friend, after all. I don’t really have those.” Tarvek sighed. “And it took a  _ long _ time before I was able to let go of the hurt. But it  _ will  _ be okay.” He gave her a comforting squeeze and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “It will be alright.”

Much later, when Agatha was rubbing the oil and lotion mixture that Tarvek used to reduce his scars onto his shoulders, she found herself wondering if he’d meant  _ she _ would be alright, or  _ they _ would be alright. Tracing the skull and crossbones with her fingertip Agatha felt an odd sense of melancholy.

_ I hope we’ll be alright, Tarvek and I. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anevka’s monthly quirk I am basing off my _own_ experiences, and similar sympathetic complaints from some female friends. Tarvek is trying to be sympathetic, as he is to his sister.


	18. Three Days and a Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarvek has even more work, this time out of town.

The next three days after that were a comfortable routine, of sorts - Tarvek and Agatha woke early, and did morning training. Tarvek was initially too relieved that the training outfit was  _ not _ nudity to care about how skimpy it was - until he saw Agatha in it and stood staring for almost a minute, then shook himself and apologised repeatedly, blushing. Agatha noticed that his blush went a fair way down his chest, since he was wearing the version that he’d made. 

It had been interesting to watch him sew as he chatted with Krosp about the military history of Sturmhalten. 

When the cat made the observation that he barely looked where the needle went, Tarvek replied that sewing was used as a training method for finger sensitivity, since jabbing one’s own fingertips tended to be a swift punishment for mistakes. “I find it relaxing; my hands are kept busy while my mind  _ isn’t _ idle. I embroider my lapels when I have a particularly thorny problem that requires me to think but doesn’t sink me into a fugue state.” He snipped off the thread, gently tugged on the stitches, then began threading his needle again. “Whether stitching sutures, or embroidering ivy, it’s not really much  _ different, _ just what you use your needle on, and the kind of thread you use.”

Then the two young Sparks would head to breakfast with the Prince and Anevka, where the discussions remained interesting studies in statecraft - the siblings would discuss bits of their tasks and work, and Prince Aaronev would give his orders or recommendations. Half of the meal would be devoted to how much Agatha herself had learned. After the meal, they would go their separate ways into their own respective laboratories - Tarvek made it a point to see Tinka at least once a day and check if she needed maintenance.

_ I must remember to show him the Van Rijn notebook, _ Agatha would think, but then the thought would be forgotten as they would then afterward bury themselves into simulations of some of the reported issues in Castle Heterodyne, and come up with theoretical fixes. It was a heady, happy state to be in, for both Tarvek and Agatha would be in a state of Sparky fugue until one of the footmen assigned to them for the day would remind them it was lunchtime. Anevka joined them twice for lunch, and they chatted about the books they liked to read and the music they enjoyed. 

“When you’re established, you simply  _ must _ come with me to Vienna sometime. They have some intriguing plays every season, and the  _ Weinachtsmarts _ are a joy to go to.” Anevka chattered. “And Tarvek can take you to the winter balls, and finally  _ enjoy _ them.”

Tarvek smiled warmly at his sister. “I always enjoy the dances, Sister dearest.”

“Ah, but this time, you won’t have to fly from the vapid Ladies by partnering with me half the time!” Anevka sniffed. “It’s hardly  _ my _ fault that you’re so charming, Brother mine!”

“Or perhaps my presence keeps you from flirting with potential suitors?” Tarvek asked archly, his smile hidden briefly as he sipped from his wine.

“You of all people would know that I’m hardly so  _ defenseless _ a girl.” Anevka turned her nose up at him. “Forget going to the dances with Tarvek, Agatha! You and I will take Vienna by the metaphorical bit and break  _ all _ the hearts there!”

“Including mine!” Tarvek protested. “You’d have me miss out on dancing with Agatha?! I thought you loved me, Sister!”

“Well, yes. But now I have a  _ sister _ do I not? And so Agatha and I will do sisterly things - such as tweak your nose.”

To this, Tarvek turned to Agatha and affected a comically woebegone expression, and said nothing.

“Ack! Noo! Not the puppydog eyes!” Agatha cried, pretending to recoil. “I cannot resist that! Especially from you!”

Tarvek batted his eyelashes as Anevka stared at her brother with annoyance.

“I surrender! I  _ will _ go to the dances with  _ both  _ of you!” Agatha wailed, slumping into her chair and dissolving into giggles.

_ “Really? _ Did you  _ seriously _ just  _ bat your eyelashes _ like a coquettish maiden, Tarvek?” Anevka glared. “Have you not an  _ ounce _ of shame?”

“Not if it gets me to dance with Agatha, I do not,” Tarvek replied loftily. Then he too started laughing. Eventually Anevka joined in, declaring him ‘absolutely ridiculous.’

Tarvek insisted on setting aside an hour after lunch for a rest period - both to let their lunch settle, and so they could do something pleasant for a little while. The first day, they played on the spinet - not the way they did the first time, but the two of them did spend a pleasant hour reworking a couple of pieces into different moods. Working  [ _ Moonlight Sonata _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZPVHhVULIc) into a piece that would not have been out of place on a horror stage play’s repertoire was an  _ interesting _ experience for Agatha, but she wished she could have the orchestra play the rendition of  [ _ Ode to Joy _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EW1kt5kOJQ8) that she and Tarvek came up with, so she could dance with him.

The second day, Tarvek  [ played ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rEK5JNvvnis) his violin for her, in the privacy of his rooms. After playing  [ another song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dpxVIXindY) , he looked up at her and said “Sing.” 

“What? I don’t-” Tarvek rose and pulled her to her feet with one hand, smiling.

“You can. You have perfect pitch. You have to, in order to heterodyne. Sing with me, and my violin. You can do it.” His eyes looked so certain, that Agatha nodded. Tarvek  [ sang, ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cX0w6mK3RwQ) raising his voice into the first notes of a wordless song. Thrilled by the sound of his rippling tenor, Agatha joined him when he started the first notes again. She faltered, startled by the pure sound that came from her throat.

Tarvek smiled, and began the song again. When Agatha joined him once more, their voices rising in harmony, her heart soared with joy and excitement in discovering another thing she could do, now that she was unhindered by the chains upon her mind and emotions. As she sang, Agatha let her eyes drift shut, transported by the music and the ecstasy of being absorbed by it. She didn’t realise when Tarvek let his voice fall silent and simply let his violin play. When the last notes of both Agatha’s voice and his strings faded, Agatha opened her eyes to see Tarvek’s gentle smile, and his eyes shining with pride and happiness for her.

“I  _ knew _ you could do it.”

Thoughtless in her joy and buoyed by the way he gazed at her, Agatha threw her arms around him. But when she flinched back on realising this, she only saw his happy grin as he slid the arm with his bow around her waist. “Tomorrow, we will make music together.”   


The afternoon they divided between Agatha’s studying and Tarvek’s work. He oversaw quite a bit of the administration of things that couldn’t be handled by the Seneschal, and from this Agatha learned as Tarvek talked about his decisions. “Wulfenbach tries to keep the roads neat but we can’t rely on him for  _ everything. _ Even if it’s for something as small as roads within our own borders, we want to have  _ some _ independence. Besides,” Tarvek put his signature on the approval for a road repair budget, “if we have our own people work on it they’re more invested in it.”

“That makes sense…” Agatha watched him drip wax on top of a looped ribbon and press his seal on top of it.

“And  _ that’s _ the last of it today.” With a satisfied sigh, Tarvek piled the folders and scrolls together and pulled out a bell from the drawer he had his stamps, wax and seals in. He rang for the footman to deliver the paperwork to the Seneschal and stretched.

“I think that calls for a break.” Agatha rose from her seat. “Tea?”

Tarvek shook his head. “None for me, thanks. I do want to stretch my legs a little before dinner though.”

Dinners were again family affairs, but Prince Aaronev insisted on ‘pleasant conversation topics’ which included asking Agatha about her life on the road with her Uncle Barry. She told them the more palatable parts about it; such as how Uncle Barry would make emergency escape tunnels no matter where they slept - even putting them into tents somehow, or how tireless he had seemed as he carried her from one place to another. Agatha recounted how, during a stay at a village, a little boy she played with gave her a clay toy cow. She quietly wondered what had happened to it and her home in Beetleburg.

It was only to Tarvek that she admitted that she was mostly ostracized and bullied in private. Still, Agatha guessed that she must have done enough of an entertaining job, for the Prince suggested on the second night that she should write down her experiences as a memoir. 

_ “Heterodynes in Hiding! _ I can see it now!” Prince Aaronev clenched his fist in excitement. “It’ll be a bestseller! Tarvek! Make sure the publishing house in town will be ready to print it!”

“Father, it isn’t even beyond a mere concept yet,” Tarvek pointed out as his sister rubbed her temples in exasperation. “There’s  _ nothing _ to print, not even a primary draft.”

“Oh, right… that’s right.” Aaronev seemed to deflate. Then he turned a brilliant smile on Agatha. “But when it is, we’ll definitely help bring it to the world!” The Prince was completely oblivious to the identical expressions of polite indulgence the three younger Sparks were pasting on.

“There’s no talking to him when he’s like that,” Anevka growled as the three of them made their way down the hall, more piqued than either Tarvek or Agatha. “He goes off into his own little world and time seems to stop having any meaning for him! It’s annoying!”

The Princess sighed and turned back to face her brother and his Lady. “That said, Father’s not  _ exactly _ wrong. Such a memoir would be of great interest once you’re revealed and established, and even more after you and Tarvek get married and  _ he’s _ revealed as the Storm King. In fact,  _ you _ should consider writing your memoirs too, Tarvek.”

“I’m only twenty-two, Anevka. It’s not as if I’ve lived a particularly fascinating life until now,” Tarvek replied mildly. “Memoirs are supposed to be things one writes when one is at  _ least _ Father’s age.”

“Oh, but now that you’re in a Heterodyne Adventure of your own…” Anevka’s smile turned wicked. “Things  _ will _ look up, don’t you think?”

“Are you  _ trying _ to jinx me?”

“Adventures are supposed to be  _ fun!” _

“Says the person who was never  _ forced _ into them!” Tarvek grumbled.

“That’s because you never relaxed enough to enjoy the adventure!” Anevka waved it aside airily. “If you unbent a little you might have  _ even _ gotten a little of your own back!”

“Forget revenge, I would have been quite agreeable with simply  _ not _ being the scapegoat!”

“I have to say, I really am intrigued by this Holzfäller fellow who manages to put one over  _ you _ repeatedly.” Anevka hummed with interest. “I may have to try to track him down.”

Tarvek looked  _ horrified. _ “No, nein, non, nyet and  _ never!” _ The last was said in English, not Romanian.

Agatha liked watching the siblings bicker over what was, really, nothing important, as it was something she never could have, but Agatha realised that the siblings were especially close because they also didn’t have anyone  _ else. _ Around Anevka, Tarvek would lose a lot of his poise, and Anevka seemed to be happy that she could make her sibling ‘unbend’ that much. Finally Agatha couldn’t hold back and started laughing.

“You two get along very well, don’t you?” Agatha finally gasped.

“How did you reach-” Tarvek began, but Anevka wrapped her arms around them both and hugged all the breath out of Tarvek.

“Agatha  _ gets _ it~!” Anevka sang in delight. “You really  _ are _ quite the clever girl aren’t you? If Tarvek ever bores you do come looking for me!” She let go, swatted Tarvek on the back, then sauntered off, her trilling good-night echoing behind her.

Tarvek hissed in pain. “She always gets me right where I  _ can’t _ reach.” Agatha rubbed the spot soothingly. 

The evenings after dinner was spent pleasantly, reading through the various technical or medical journals that Tarvek had, and discussing them. They frequently were loud, enthusiastic discussions that from the outside may have sounded like arguments to normal people, but when you were dealing with enthusiastic Sparks, raised voices were a given. Agatha found out at that point why Tarvek had a blackboard in his bedroom (and three in his drawing room) that folded out into multiple boards that could be written on - on  _ both _ sides. It was  _ such _ a splendid idea!

It was Krosp who snapped them both out of it - by batting a wadded up ball of paper at the board they were both filling with increasingly complex diagrams and equations. When the two Sparks turned to frown at him, he reminded them both that they had  _ specifically  _ asked him to let them know it was ten in the evening. There was the usual coin toss for the bathroom, and whoever lost ended up transcribing what had been written out on the boards to a notebook before cleaning it all up and putting the board away.

The first two nights, Tarvek slipped away to ‘run errands’ and wasn’t back until well after midnight. He delivered notes from Zeetha and Lars on the second night as rain began to pelt against the windows, and thunder made them vibrate. Tarvek wearily went straight to sleep after a second quick shower. 

Each of the three mornings, Agatha awoke to find she’d burrowed into Tarvek’s embrace again, her head pillowed on his shoulder and his arm loosely wrapped around her. On the first morning, Agatha pushed away slightly, feeling a little guilty. A sliver of thought creeped in that she was taking once again unfair advantage of Tarvek’s goodwill. Then as she was looking up at his sleeping face, Tarvek mumbled something incoherent, and still asleep, rolled so he could wrap both arms around her then buried his nose in her hair. With a happy sigh, Tarvek relaxed deep into slumber once again.

_ Okay, this… isn’t something I should feel bad about.  _ Agatha thought.  _ Tarvek’s treating me like a pillow too. He thinks of me as ‘safe’, enough to sleep this deeply. That’s… amazing, really.  _ She smiled as a warm, golden tingly feeling filled her with this realisation. Agatha let her eyes close and she drifted off to sleep.

Everything changed on the lunch of the third day. The three young Sparks were discussing whether the Si Vales Valeo revivification technique could be improved for safety, sanity and greater success rates, when Artacz burst in.

“Master Tarvek,” he cried, “they’ve found one!  _ Alive!” _

Tarvek stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair over, while Agatha and Anevka rose quickly, alert to the sudden emergency. “Is the site secured?”

“Being done, as we speak. I’ve taken the liberty of having your usual kit fetched, your Highness.” Artacz strode toward the table, a red folder under his arm and holding out a belt with a pistol, ammunition pouch, and a sabre; and a gold winged Sturmvoraus sigil. 

“Good man.” Tarvek had already removed the chain with the plain sword and gear from around his collar. He turned to Agatha and pressed it into her hand. “I have to go. Order business, I’m afraid; and I don’t know when I will return.” He bent, and kissed her. “I will do so as soon as possible.”

Agatha nodded. The kiss Tarvek had given her just now had been real, and it had left her a little stunned because it came out of nowhere and she hadn’t been expecting it. She watched as Tarvek belted the weapons on and pinned the winged sigil to his cravat. When he looked up again she was struck by the air of authority and command he exuded.

“Anevka,” Tarvek looked at his sister. “Prepare.” It was a  _ command, _ a tone Agatha had never heard him use with her before.

“Of course. And don’t worry about Agatha. We’ll take good care of her.” Anevka nodded. There was no trace of the usual sardonic and teasing air around the Princess.

Agatha caught Tarvek’s hand in hers. “Be careful,” she told him, nerves jangling with alarm and the need to act at seeing Tarvek openly armed - whatever this business was, it was dangerous. She wanted to go with him, but she could not, so Agatha leaned up and kissed him again, quickly. Tarvek smiled against her lips in surprise.

Then she let go of his hand and he was gone, the red folder in his hands as he read the report within.

Agatha stood there, not sure what to do with herself. She started when Anevka’s voice snapped out from behind her.

“You there,” she said imperiously, pointing at a footman. “Bring Lady Agatha back to my brother’s rooms. She can see his airship depart from there.”

Agatha turned to look at her, but Anevka was smiling in a way that made Agatha think of Tarvek. It was disconcerting, even though they were siblings.

“You really _do_ love my brother, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Agatha replied immediately, without thinking. Then she blushed.

Anevka nodded, as if this answered a different question entirely. “Go on.”

Later, after the footman had helpfully pointed out where the airship docks were, Agatha watched a medium-sized cruiser with the Sturmvoraus sigil emblazoned on the side of the gasbag take off, uneasily petting Krosp in her arms. Quietly she told the Moldovian Puff what had happened.

“And Sturmvoraus just up and rushed off?” Krosp murmured. “That’s interesting. I wonder what they mean, about ‘finding one alive?’ What do they mean, and how is this important for the Order of Jove?”

“Maybe they found something - a rampaging monster they’ve been trying to get a sample of?” Agatha suggested just as softly.

“That… or they discovered some surviving Other tech, like Dr. Beetle did.” Krosp said grimly.

Agatha pushed away her sense of unease. “We’ll wait and see, alright? I’m a… little tired of judging Tarvek without reason for mistrusting him. It’s just as bad as how everyone thinks I’m going to be some horrible monstrous Spark just because I am born a Heterodyne. Tarvek is probably just as tired of being judged for being born a Sturmvoraus.”

“Well, neither of you can completely escape from the reputations of your House, unless you are willing to be like your father and uncle.” The cat looked up at her. “You have to stand out in a way.”

Agatha reached into her pocket and pulled out the gold necklace that Tarvek had hurriedly put in her hand. She caressed the sigil. “I hope Tarvek will stay safe.”

“He’ll probably be surrounded by guards, Agatha. Those weapons were probably just symbols of his authority.” Krosp tilted his head. “And besides, you know he can take care of himself. He’ll be fine.”

Agatha headed to the bedroom and set the necklace down on the bedside table.  _ So I don’t lose it. _ She stood there, finally letting herself think about the answer she’d given Anevka, her heart hammering in her chest.  _ I just gave the expected answer, right? Tarvek would’ve been proud of how I stayed in my role… the way I’m going to need to while he’s gone… _

Yet as she replayed the scene in her head, Agatha found herself blushing, and squirming at the odd, warm, fluttery feeling in her belly.

A knock on the door preceded the entry of a maid - the same one that had served her breakfast some days ago. The maid carried clothes, neatly folded, and a set of tall boots in her arms. “My Lady, her Highness requests that you help her with preparations in her lab. You will need to change clothes before you do.” She bowed and offered the things in her arms. “I’ve also been assigned to be your personal maid while his Highness is away.”

Agatha accepted the clothes. “What’s your name?”

“Ioana, my Lady.” She curtseyed. “Do you need help changing?”

Agatha considered this briefly.  _ People like to feel needed and useful, _ she thought. Smiling, Agatha nodded. “I especially could use some help putting my hair up.”

“Gladly, my Lady!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tarvek doesn’t go out on Order business much, but when he does, it usually has him running out the door. Tarvek has a lot more responsibilities, agency and power than his canon counterpart, beyond administration and work around Balan’s Gap.


	19. An Ego Piercing Discussion

Zeetha watched Lars gnawing on a strip of jerky, much in the same way he was probably chewing on his thoughts. Dimo was guarding the entrance that was covered by moss and vines, while Maxim and Oggie were camped by the horses and mules, which they were watering and feeding on a rotation. After several minutes of this, Zeetha went looking for a canvas bag, which she found in the storage room. 

As she walked, the Skifandrian Princess snagged Lars by the arm. “C’mon, let’s go hunt for mushrooms. There’ll be a bumper crop after last night!” She cheerfully turned a deaf ear to his protests and hauled him out, to the grinning interest of the Jägers.

They’d filled the bag halfway before Zeetha spoke. “So, why are you so upset this time? Sturmvoraus again?”

“How can I  _ not _ be upset after seeing what he did?!” Lars burst out. “He killed that guy without even  _ looking _ at him!”

“That was pretty impressive, yeah.” Zeetha’s eyes went distant as she remembered how Tarvek had arrived late the night before with a barrel of lamp oil and groaned when he discovered that it was raining heavily outside.

“Oh  _ wonderful,” _ he’d complained. “How am I going to dispose of those bodies  _ now?” _ Tarvek led them back to the chamber where the caves forked off into different directions, where two bodies lay, one with a dagger in his chest, and the other with one in her throat.

“Hoh,” Oggie exclaimed. “Hyu kill hyu own assassins? Dots not bad!”

“Well, yes. I rather have to. They  _ were _ sent to try to kill me, after all.” Tarvek had knelt and began to rummage through the clothes of the assassins, finding knives, potions and vials, darts and other items. “I suppose I  _ could _ drop them down the ravine but I’ve been trying to avoid drawing monsters to easy food…” He sighed, and his arm blurred.

There was a sound not unlike that of someone taking an axe and splitting a piece of firewood, a grunt, and another masked and hooded man tumbled out of a shadow, the knife that had been in the chest of the dead man now buried up to the crosspiece in the newcomer’s forehead. Tarvek finished looting the first corpse of everything including the cloak, and started on the second, not even bothering to look up at the newest dead body until he was ready to divest it of its useful belongings. When the three Jägers, duly impressed, offered to drop the bodies into the ravine he’d mentioned, Tarvek had hesitated, fretting that letting them clean up his mess was rather rude.

“Nah, iz hokay. Hyu look tired, end hyu still hef to get beck to de Mistress,” Maxim assured him.

Tarvek thanked them gratefully and pointed to the cave opening that led to the ravine. “Don’t go deeper. You’ll get lost and I don’t know the way out of there.” Then he’d turned to Zeetha, and handed her the assassins’ gear that he’d bundled up carefully in the three cloaks. “Please put these in the small lab for me, Princess Zeetha? I’ll sort them out later on, but be  _ very _ careful with the knives; they’ll all be poisoned.”

_ “These _ are what you call  _ unskilled _ assassins, Sturmvoraus?” Zeetha raised her eyebrows. “They seemed very skilled.”

“Oh no, they’re  _ quite _ skilled. But I don’t want anyone  _ more _ dangerous than  _ that _ to come after me, you understand.”

“Ah, I getcha.” Zeetha nodded in understanding. “Good night, Prince Tarvek.”

Coming out of her reverie, Zeetha nodded. “Yep. I’m still impressed, ‘coz that was a  _ good _ demonstration.”

“That’s what you call it?” Lars demanded. 

“So you’re upset that the Prince killed a bunch of assassins because he’s good at defending himself?” Zeetha eyed him. “Please tell me it’s  _ possibly _ because you  _ finally _ understand that you haven’t got a  _ chance _ of landing a blow on him, never mind killing him?”

“I don’t-” Lars gritted his teeth. “I don’t want him dead.”  _ Not until Agatha is safe. _

“You wanna  _ try _ lying a bit better than that to someone who’s a trained warrior like he is?” Zeetha crossed her arms. “You’ve been glaring murderously at his back every time Sturmvoraus has been around - and if you keep it up, you’re going to end up with a dagger between the eyes. I’ve been watching him hold back from doing  _ exactly _ what he did to that assassin to  _ you.” _ She looked at him flatly. “The worst part is, you’ll never even feel a whit of killing intent from him -  _ I _ didn’t, and neither did the Jägers, when he killed that man hiding in the shadows. Heck, I think he didn’t kill that last man until the last minute as a demonstration to  _ you.” _

Lars glared at the mushroom he’d just picked up so furiously it started to steam.

“You know, if you think about it  _ really _ objectively, that skill he has in hiding his hostile intent comes from at  _ least _ a decade of having to kill in order to survive. Sturmvoraus looks to be about as old as me, so he’s been killing his own assassins since he was what,  _ ten years old? _ Does  _ that _ sound like fun to you?” Zeetha asked, the question itself piercing Lars’ sense of sulky injustice. “I don’t. And it’s not, believe me. Heck, I hope that Agatha’ll have opportunities to learn how to fight from him a little. His fighting style might work better with her, since she doesn’t have to master these.” She tapped her Quata’aras.

“Why?” Lars looked betrayed. “Why would she need to learn to fight from  _ him?” _

Zeetha gaped at him, actually stunned by how naive Lars was being. “Don’t tell me that you hoped that she’d run away with the Circus and live with you for the rest of her life? Especially  _ now _ that you know that Agatha is in fact the last living  _ Heterodyne?” _

“I…” Lars hesitated. What  _ had _ he wanted? Agatha made him feel things he’d  _ never _ felt for a woman before, but he’d taken for granted that Agatha  _ Clay _ could stay with the Circus, that she enjoyed her life with them and that they’d… that she would... “I guess I did.”

“You idiot, you  _ fool, _ even if she weren’t a Heterodyne, she’s a  _ powerful _ Spark, or did you forget that? Agatha could  _ never _ hide with the Circus. She would never fit in!” Zeetha made a frustrated sound. “I’m no Spark, but my mother  _ is. _ I’ve seen her enter that state where she  _ needs _ to make things - she used to tell me that nothing could compare to it, that euphoric sense of satisfaction when the experiment succeeded. Agatha…” Zeetha suddenly turned outraged eyes on Lars. “You were  _ hoping _ that she’d hold herself back for  _ you? _ That she would  _ dampen _ her Spark?”

“What?! No!” Lars looked shocked. “I never - I  _ wouldn’t _ have…!” He stammered, then gazed at Zeetha plaintively. “I never thought of that at all. I just thought only of Agatha.”  _ Only of the woman,  _ not _ the Spark. I forgot that she was both… that she wasn’t ordinary… _

_ Zeetha’s right. I’m an idiot. _ Lars’ shoulders slumped.

“I see. Okay, I believe you.  _ However…” _ Zeetha stared at him, the flinty gleam not quite leaving her eyes. “This only means I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you’re being just a regular idiot instead of being a  _ selfish, possessive moron.” _

“I am  _ not _ possessive!” Lars snapped, stung.  _ Are you really not? _ A little voice whispered in his head. It sounded like Abner.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me! You couldn’t even make a pretense of being civil to the Prince, not even to save Agatha’s life. Good thing that the man is in love with her, and obviously  _ doesn’t _ want to piss her off.” Zeetha growled back. “The fact that you haven’t thought beyond yourself and your relationship with her doesn’t speak well of you or the longevity of your relationship with Agatha. You should have  _ started _ thinking the night you found out from Sturmvoraus that Agatha was a Heterodyne and what that  _ really _ means for the both of you.”

“I…” Lars faltered.

“Let me put it another way: The Heterodynes are, from what I can tell, a great noble House of Sparks. They’re famous, and  _ infamous… _ which means not everyone will be happy there’s one again. Sturmvoraus has had people trying to kill him so often he doesn’t even think about it any more - and you heard the townspeople talk about how good he is to them! Think! You’re from Europa! What do they  _ say about the Old Heterodynes?” _ Zeetha watched as Lars blinked. “Good. That brain is  _ finally _ starting to turn its gears again. Remember the Jägers? People still do - that’s why we found Dimo and the other two hung in the town square.  _ Everyone hates the Heterodyne family _ \- and the Heterodyne Boys were the exception to that rule. Do you think that most people are gonna to give  _ Agatha _ the benefit of the doubt, or just send killers after her? Heck, you’ll be lucky if that’s  _ all _ they do, instead of send entire armies to  _ crush _ a weak and still fledgling Heterodyne. Since Agatha’s on the run from Wulfenbach, I’m going to guess it’s the latter.

“Can you do it?” Zeetha pressed on. “Can you be the man that Agatha needs supporting her in a situation like that? Lead men in war? See them die because of orders  _ you _ gave? And if you tell me love is all you need I’m going to punch you, because you should know better than that by now.”

Lars reeled, overwhelmed, trying to imagine it and failing. He’d always  _ avoided _ danger - and wasn’t suited for the battlefield for that reason unless he’d had to fight.  _ Sure, there’s surviving the Wastelands… and there’s war. Those are two different things. _

“Tarvek’s a Prince. He might not look like he belongs on the battlefield and from the sounds of it he’s made himself appear as if he’s useless on that regard so he won’t get  _ murdered _ \- we still don’t know  _ why _ people want him dead - but I’ll bet you fifty castlemarks that you could drop him into one and he’d take over without more than a glance at the battlefield.” 

Zeetha waited until Lars absorbed that then spoke again, a little more gently this time. “I hate to say it but… Prince Sturmvoraus might be exactly  _ everything _ Agatha needs if she’s going to survive being the Heterodyne.”

Lars sat down on a nearby log, feeling heartsick. “So you’re saying I should give up on Agatha, because I’m  _ not _ suited for her.”

“Kind of, yeah, no offense.” Zeetha sat down next to him. “Maybe if Agatha had been more ordinary… but then again if she were, she  _ wouldn’t _ be Agatha, now would she?”

“So I should just let her go? Just like that?”

“Well, we still don’t know how Agatha herself feels - and I don’t think Sturmvoraus acts like she’s picked him. And, knowing her, Agatha won’t be taking the decision lightly, not because of what he can offer her, but whether or not she’ll be  _ happy _ with him, or you.” Zeetha leaned back and looked up at the overcast sky. “If my read of his personality is right, Sturmvoraus’ll accept whatever decision  _ Agatha _ makes no matter how much it’ll hurt. The question is, will  _ you?” _

Lars turned the singed mushroom over in his hand then tossed it aside. He opened his mouth to say yes, and then found he couldn’t make himself say it.

After several moments he buried his face in his hands. “I’m awful, aren’t I? This is karmic revenge, from all the women I’ve embraced, taken pleasure with and left behind. Now I’ve finally fallen in love for  _ real _ and… I can’t let go. Even if I should, because you’re right, she was never going to stay.”

Unwittingly echoing a different Princess’ words, Zeetha patted his shoulder sympathetically. “You really  _ do _ love her, don’t you?”

Lars nodded miserably.

“Well,  _ if _ she doesn’t choose you in the end, try to at  _ least _ become a pleasant memory instead of one that inspires aggravation when Agatha thinks of you.”

“That’s the best I can hope for, huh?” Lars leaned back. “Hey. That’s an airship overhead. With a Sturmvoraus sigil on its belly.”

“I wonder what it’s for.” Zeetha frowned. “But in case it’s a patrol, let’s get out of here and back into hiding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the books, incredible passion actually has a physical effect in the world - like heat waves. I thought it amusing to continue on in that vein by having glaring have a similar effect. 
> 
> I know I’ve been portraying Lars as a jealous, possessive jerk, but I had to remind myself that this is reasonable for the four days the Circus was in Balan’s Gap. Another three or four days of that though, and I reckon Zeetha would be heartily sick of Lars’ shit and telling him to think with the head that’s supposed to hold the brain.
> 
> I've moved house so I'm a bit screwy on sleep. Sorry this is late.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed the Muse! As always, please let me know if I missed any tags or warnings.


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